


The Prisoner Dilemma

by rinverse



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Human Trafficking, I really want my boys to be happy, M/M, References to Drugs, but I'm terrible at stopping myself from adding a lot of angst, so beware that I won't be going easy on anybody's feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 119,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinverse/pseuds/rinverse
Summary: Kija, an elite detective sent undercover to Awa State Penitentiary in order to gain information about the inner networks of a mafia boss, is confronted with a challenge in the face of his cellmate. Jae-ha, a mysterious green-haired man with an agenda of his own, makes it clear that they will never see eye-to-eye.But life is never that simple and prison may just be the one place where they will have to work together to accomplish their goals. Will they find a way to look past their differences or will all hell break loose?——(aka that Mafia AU where Kija is a detective doing his best and Jae-ha is a criminal doing his very worst)





	1. The Rattle of Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! Welcome to a Jaeki fanfic that was born from a lot of love for our boys Kija and Jae-ha and also because I felt like I never contributed to this ship in any meaningful way, though I always wanted to write a story revolving around these two. Now, even though a bit late to the train (as always), I have finally decided to write a short story which is already turning out to be a lengthy novelette.
> 
> After reading 'Renegades' by SariahHime here on AO3 (I recommend giving it a shot if you haven't already) I decided that the pairing of a detective Kija and a criminal Jae-ha is just too good and needs to be explored more. Hence, Akatsuki no Yona met Prison Break, with a dash of White Collar, and this fanfic was born into the world.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what your thoughts are in the comments! :)

—Kija—

The spinning of the wheels had kicked up sand from the dunes, causing a vertex of dust to loom around them as they followed the curve of the road to Awa State Penitentiary. Neither of the two agents in charge of the transit looked at Kija as the phantom silhouette of the watchtowers began to take shape through the mist. The tension was insufferable. You didn’t have to be a criminal to taste the acrid tang of impending doom which suffocated the back section of the prison van.

Before the transit, Kija had found comfort in the knowledge that he wasn’t an actual prisoner. Only a handful of people had been made aware that he would be assuming a status as an undercover detective in the prison and even fewer knew the details behind the objective of his mission. At the time, the knowledge that at least one person on the outside was going to be looking out for him had given him a peace of mind. It had been enough to keep him grounded, to keep his mind focused on the objective and away from feelings as treacherous as fear or doubt. But was it going to be enough now that they were fast approaching the gates and that same rationality was making a hasty retreat in the face of panic?

Even though his hands and feet weren’t cuffed yet, Kija felt himself unable to move. Rising panic kept him rooted to the spot. Only his gaze was free to dart across the curtain of dust and watch as patches of solid concrete blocks began parting the sand mist.

Kija stayed silent as parts of the Penitentiary came closer into view — first the rings of razor-wire fencing, then the faint traces of searchlights which probably burned like jetstreams come nightfall, and finally the sentries patrolling around the perimeter. As they approached one of the guard towers, Kija could make out the faint silhouette of a guard with a rifle in his hands. The guard wasn’t looking towards the prison grounds but in their direction, watching the van enter the gates.

Agent Hak met his ‘former’ colleague’s gaze through the mirror, as if knowing what Kija had been observing.

“We’ll be entering the gates now,” he said, almost as if to jostle Kija out of his stupor.

Although today Hak hadn’t been generous on the gas like usual, perhaps sensing that Kija needed time to sort out the inner turmoil of his mind, they’d still reached the prison sooner than the detective had hoped. 

He had never given much thought to the actual transit of prisoners before, had never bothered to look back at their expressions or try to sympathise with their position. Why would he have — he had always been the one tasked with catching them in the first place, hadn’t he? Now that time was running out, however, Kija began to understand why prisoners would take their chance and risk escaping in that sliver of time when the van had stopped for inspection and the gates hadn’t closed yet. It wasn’t entirely out of desperation; it was a lot more primal than that — it was a survival instinct that said doom was imminent unless they fled, it was bells ringing in the distance and heart beating like a wardrum.

In that moment, when the rest of the menacing grey-brick building of Awa State Penitentiary finally emerged from behind the sandstorm, towering in front of him, Kija felt that primal instinct take hold and he suddenly understood it well. He’d always thought himself better than the criminals he’d captured but here he was, no different than any of them. His palms grew slick with sweat and his heart picked up speed. Almost like sirens in the distance, the voice in his mind — the one he’d trusted so many times out on the field — was telling him to turn back. It would be easy, so easy to tell Hak to bring the car back around. 

The van jostled as Hak reversed into the space allocated for transit vehicles. When Kija trusted himself enough to look away from the Penitentiary’s gates, he saw that agent Yona was already peering back at him from her place in the front seat.

When she reached out to take his right hand in both of hers, Kija let her and she smiled. 

“I wish you weren’t doing this,” Yona said, hair burning crimson underneath the dying light of the afternoon. 

Her expression wasn’t expectant — she must have been well aware by now that Kija wouldn’t turn back on his orders, much less on his word. He was glad that she hadn’t suggested they turn back or worse, ask him whether he was certain he wanted to do this. Even now, even despite the primal fear in his heart, there was no doubt in his mind.

“Please don’t worry about me,” Kija tried to assure her. “Going to prison may yet prove to be a most invaluable experience.”

From the driver’s seat, Hak chuckled and looked back.

“‘Invaluable’ how? Plan on going back someday?” the agent joked. “And here I was, thinking you were ready to call it quits.”

Kija clicked his tongue at the man but nonetheless appreciated the jest, knowing that it was coming from a place of reassurance rather than mockery. 

Even though it had been agent Hak who had first volunteered to go undercover at the prison, they’d soon realised that the idea wouldn’t sit well with Yona at all. Hak had, of course, insisted that he would be fine but upon seeing the man’s turmoil of having to choose between Yona’s peace of mind and the success of the mission, Kija had volunteered to go instead. He was certain that he would never forget the look of earnest gratitude that Hak had cast his way when Kija had stepped in to take his place. An unspoken agreement had passed between them and they’d since stopped bickering over every small thing — Kija wasn’t just going to stomp on this newborn trust.

A glint of metal caught his eye and he nodded in the direction of the cuffs which were partly obscured by Hak’s jacket.

“I’m ready,” he found himself saying. Perhaps it was the warmth of Yona’s hands giving him strength or the reassurance of Hak’s calm expression but Kija felt better. For now at least, he was certain that nothing could stand in his way to seeing those people again after the success of his mission.

While Hak moved around the van to enter from the back, Yona gave Kija’s hand one last strong squeeze and then released it.

“I feel better knowing Shin-ah will be there with you,” she said and Kija had to admit that he did, too. “He sent us a status update earlier that the warden arrived from Chi’Shin in the morning.”

“Probably to see what the fuss is all about,” Hak said, climbing in from the doors at the back. “The Bureau grilled him pretty hard on the matter of confidentiality.”

Agent Hak murmured an apology as he bound Kija’s wrists together and then moved to shackle his ankles. With a frown, he tested to see if the chain would give and after making sure it wouldn’t, stepped back to allow space for Kija to stand. The cuffs on his wrists felt awkward and heavy, the cold metal biting into his flesh when he moved to adjust his grip. The shackles on his feet, however, were much worse, a truly torturous device that constrained his movement to the point where he was struggling to walk even at a normal pace.

“Here we go,” muttered Hak as they entered the prison.

Awa State Penitentiary was like any other prison Kija had been in, though under much different circumstances — it was grey, slowly succumbing to mold, and devoid of any welcoming comfort. Kija didn’t heed it any mind, instead choosing to focus his attention on the prison warden, who caught all of them by surprise with a smile.

“Thank you for coming, agents,” the warden said to Yona and Hak. “Though I’ve gotta say, you must have some seriously rotten luck getting caught in one of Awa’s sandstorms.”

Warden Geun-Tae was a piece of work, Kija could tell just by looking at him. He appeared to be a man in his late thirties, most likely a husband and probably a father judging from the two-day stubble across his chin and the untidy ponytail which looked like it hadn’t been fixed since he’d last fallen asleep in it. With the way he was smiling down at them, it was as if he was about to invite them for a midday drink, prisoner and all. 

“Bringing in anyone interesting today?” warden Geun-Tae asked. 

The answer they’d agreed to confirm with the warden was: “Just some fraud thinking he can go big.”

The Penitentiary’s warden nodded, smiling wider. He had already been briefed about the Bureau’s undercover operation and although he hadn’t been given any details disclosing the true objective of the mission, he had been willing to aid them as best he could. The guards themselves hadn’t been informed under suspicion that they could compromise the integrity of Kija’s cover. It meant he’d be treated like any other prisoner though, which would have substantially limited the Bureau’s control over the situation hadn’t agent Shin-ah been placed as an undercover prison guard.

Speaking of, Shin-ah’s blue hair, which was usually a dead giveaway to his location, was nowhere to be seen. The agent was most likely stationed at some other part of the prison.

“Well then, warden, we’re leaving this snake with you,” Hak said with feigned disdain in front of the other guards.

Snake!? A muscle twitched beneath Kija’s brow and he wished he could glare at the other agent. Surely, that was uncalled for even just for show?

The warden gestured for Kija to follow him out to the concrete block for processing. “I’ll take it from here! There’s no better place for this hardened criminal than my Penitentiary, I can assure you.”

“Geun-Tae, sir, you seem excited,” a young guard said as he joined the warden’s side, eyeing Kija to determine the level of threat. It was almost ironic — Kija would have done the same.  
The warden slapped the new prisoner across the back with the force of a freight train and exhaled the most guttural laugh Kija had ever heard. “Of course I am, Chul-Rang! Now let’s go make this man feel at home.”

“S-sir?” the guard stuttered in his surprise.

“Do you want any tea, young man? My wife Yu-hon makes it, you see, so I can vouch for its quality. It’s a bit smelly though so maybe a man such as yourself’s not gonna like it much.”  
Kija dared a glance back at Yona and Hak who looked just as shell-shocked as he did. He followed warden Geun-Tae into the prison, choosing to focus on the young guard’s complaints about the warden’s inappropriate behaviour rather than the uneasiness that was beginning to engulf him as they walked.

Compared to the warden’s overly dramatic reaction, everyone else seemed bored to the point that they didn’t even look up from their screens when Kija entered for processing. The guards had glanced through the tax fraud charges on his file and had quickly lost all, if any, interest — Kija wanted to stay off their radar anyway. They had removed his cuffs and ordered him to strip down and into his blue jumpsuit, all the while watching him in case he’d tried to conceal anything on his person. It made Kija flush a deep crimson regardless of the fact that it was standard procedure and left him scurrying to the next checkpoint, where a bored administrator grunted at the task of taking Kija’s mugshot. After the mission, they would wipe his existence off the system but for now, Kija lined up with a sign of his inmate number and a date, facing forward and then to the side as instructed. Kija went through the motions calmly but by the end of the whole ordeal, he was already wishing they would just take him to his cell.

“Hey, new guy!” someone called out and Kija looked around to see who had addressed him. As it turned out, the person who’d been called instead was a young guard, blue strands of hair barely visible below the hat. “Show this perp to his cell, would ya?”

Kija was glad to see a familiar face, even though not even one full hour had passed since he’d parted with Yona and Hak. Although he did not dare smile at his fellow colleague, a look of unspoken acknowledgement passed between them. Shin-ah fit well as a guard in the prison, Kija realised with a start — the man was tall and lean but his build suggested he was used to handling trouble and his demeanor was calm but cold. To anyone else within the prison, he’d seem like the kind of guard whose radar you desperately wanted to avoid being in.

As far as the Bureau was concerned, agent Shin-ah was to guarantee Kija’s safety and relay messages between him and the rest of the team. To Kija, however, his presence meant more than that — it gave him some peace of mind. 

“The prisoners here aren’t too dangerous,” Shin-ah said in a hushed voice as they walked past two guards. “Most of them are serving time for small thefts or arson.” 

“And what of Kum-Ji?” Kija asked.

“His cell isn’t in gen pop,” the agent informed him as they passed the first checkpoint leading them out of the processing hall. “He’s on a separate floor but because he’s only serving for laundering, he’s allowed out of his cell with the rest of the inmates during the day.”

That sounded promising. “Have you seen anyone approach him other than his men?”

The agent shook his head.

Kija sighed. He’d known getting close to Kum-Ji wouldn’t be easy but his will would not be swayed so easily. The team had devised the perfect plan together and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Everything, from the charges he was serving for, to the way he would hold himself and the type of inmates he would talk to — it had all been devised with capturing Kum-Ji’s attention in mind. Kija had known he’d be a difficult man to get close to but that was why they had all poured hours upon hours into constructing the persona of an ideal partner in Kum-Ji’s crimes. That man’s doom was already sealed the moment Kija had entered the Penitentiary.

Shin-ah led Kija along a long hall and into the prison, through a series of locked doors, down empty corridors, up stairs, and straight into gen pop. Kija guessed that it was some time before lights-out: the corridors were still flooded with light but they were empty and all cell doors were locked. Unlike previous sections of the prison, this one was anything but silent. Instead of the shouts and yells one would expect to hear as portrayed through media, however, there was loud chatter and even laughter. 

As they walked out onto a walkway that faced inwards into floors dotted evenly with cell doors, Kija took note of the men trapped behind bars. Their reactions to him were completely different from the guards’ bored looks; rather, they were showing various degrees of interest towards him. Some looks were clearly hostile, while others Kija tried not to dwell on, preferring that he didn’t know the meaning behind them. If only they knew who he really was, they’d have him torn to shreds as soon as the guards opened those doors.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kija saw movement and reacted on instinct, stepping as far back as he could. The flash of motion turned out to be a prisoner’s hand, stretched out through the bars and reaching towards him.

“A wee bit jumpy, aye, fish?” the inmate asked, cackling. One menacing look from Shin-ah and the man was retreating to the far wall of his cell.

After that, Kija made certain to keep his back straight and his expression impassive as they walked. “Anyone I should watch out for?”

“There’s someone named Hiyou who the guards are wary of but I haven’t managed to find out who it is exactly.”

“That’s alright,” Kija said as they climbed another set of stairs. “Guess he’ll make himself known eventually.”

They seemed to have reached his cell now and Shin-ah overrode the lock with an electronic key. Kija shrunk back a little as the cell door opened up. Deep down, the rational part of him knew this was an undercover operation and not an actual stint in prison but his heart was beating much too fast and his panic was rising to his throat all the same. 

Like the rest, this cell had no windows. There looked to be a sink and a toilet but the cell was otherwise far too narrow for any sense of comfort — Kija reckoned he could touch both walls if he stretched out his arms and the ceiling if he reached up. There was an upper and lower bunk bed, with worn sheets and blankets. Except for a messy lower bunk, the cell was otherwise empty and looked uninhabited.

“Did they get me an empty cell?” Kija asked, hopeful.

All hope was lost, however, when Shin-ah shook his head. “I’m afraid the guards would have asked questions. Your cellmate has been locked up in isolation since before I came here so I don’t know anything about him.”

“Isolation?” Kija asked, panic gripping his insides. What kind of man was he? What kind of horrors had he committed to get thrown in there?

“They’re sending him back to the cell tonight, before lights-out.”

Although Kija wasn’t at all thrilled by any of those quite frankly disturbing news, he stilled the rising panic and entered the cell. With one last backwards glance at the agent, he said: “Thanks, Shin-ah.”  
Shin-ah’s gold eyes held his for a moment of reassurance. “Be careful, Kija.”

Once inside the cell, Kija tried not to flinch as he heard the door shut behind his back. He spent the first hour or so alone with his thoughts, keeping to the farthest wall of the cell and peering through the bars into the hall only when there were shouts or loud laughter. Kija wished he could say that he inspected his cell thoroughly but there was nothing to explore. Most of all, he tried not to think about the amount of bacteria and nasty insects crawling out and about the space...

After he’d tired himself from pacing around and peering at the cracks in the walls, Kija moved onto the bunks. He had enough sense not to mess with the lower bunk, especially after hearing that his cellmate was the type of criminal to get sent into isolation. Instead, he made himself comfortable on the top bunk and tried not to think about how the spring of the mattress dug painfully into his back.  
In the end, Kija was sitting on the top bunk, feet dangling in the air when he heard the clatter of metal slithering across the floor. Like chains rattling against the concrete of that same corridor he’d just been dreaming about walking back into. The heavy sound echoed across the whole prison section, bouncing off the railing and the bars and reverberating across the cracks in the walls.

A guard emerged to open Kija’s prison cell, moving aside to let someone else in only when the door was completely open. That was when he saw it — the thick chain running between the prisoner’s ankles and all the way up to his wrists. 

Kija looked up to see who his cellmate was when the guard forced the man to turn around so he could unlock the chains. Only then did Kija realise he was completely frozen in anticipation to see just what kind of a person his cellmate was, head buzzing with visual images of the criminal profiles he’d seen throughout the years and heart beating in his throat. He’d almost forgotten that he should breathe and the lack of air was making him dizzy.

“Thanks, love,” his cellmate told the guard, who looked just about done with his bullshit. “I don’t let just anyone tie me up like that so you should feel special.”

For just that moment, Kija wondered whether his cellmate wasn’t some sort of an idiot. How could anyone talk to the guards like that and expect not to get thrown in isolation?

That was when the guard left and his cellmate finally turned around, taking in the new presence in his cell. Kija’s first impression of his cellmate was that he was tall — in fact, much taller than the bunks could probably accommodate comfortably. He had vibrant green hair that ran long and swept like a curtain below his shoulder blades. Kija was surprised that they hadn’t forced him to shave it just to mess with him.

His second impression was that the man was handsome. Kija pushed that thought away, however, and discarded it into some dark corner of his mind where he knew he wouldn’t find it again.  
The man seemed to study Kija for one more moment, almost as if daring him to speak first, before he finally sighed and relented to the need to say something.

“Name’s Jae-ha,” he greeted by way of introduction.

“Kija,” the boy said simply.

“Well, Kija, welcome to your new home,” Jae-ha said, gesturing to the whole two-square meters that they had to themselves. “Can’t say I’m particularly thrilled to be sharing this sardine box with someone else but I guess it can’t be helped.”

Kija looked away because the thought he’d just banished from his mind had returned with renewed persistence.

“I bet you’re just burning to know why I got dragged here in chains so why don’t you just ask me?”

It didn’t help that this man seemed to be so talkative and now he was even taking guesses at Kija’s thoughts. This couldn’t possibly lead to anything good. “It’s none of my business.”

Jae-ha raised his brows. “So it’s none of your business if they sent me into isolation because I killed my last cellmate, is that it?”

Kija felt his eyes widen.

“Just kidding. I only got into a small fight,” his cellmate explained. “This ain’t too bad a place and we get to spend time outside so it could be much worse as far as prisons go.”

“Have you been to other prisons?” Kija asked, wary of his cellmate once more.

Jae-ha gave him a lop-sided smile — something Kija would soon notice that he seemed to do a lot. “I served a month for theft when I was fifteen at a place near Kai. It was pretty bad there.”

Kija eyed him with suspicion. “And what are you serving for now?”

“Well, theft.”

“So you haven’t gotten that much better at it since?”

Jae-ha laughed. “I made a mistake, got distracted by a beautiful lady. You know how it is.”

Kija didn’t actually know how it was but he nodded as if he did.

“Other than that, I steal from the rich and give to the poor,” Jae-ha said, throwing himself on the lower bunk. The action seemed to cause him a great deal of regret as the mattress shrieked underneath his weight and he yelped.

“So are you trying to be Robin Hood or something?” Kija asked.

“You could say that but I’m afraid I’m far too flashy to be content with being the hero from the shadows,” Jae-ha said and Kija became slightly concerned that his cellmate might be a very delusional criminal. “I just can’t stand people who steal from the poor to make money off their back.”

Kija didn’t like that he felt interested by this man’s ideals. Even though he was making these grandiose statements about good and bad people and claiming to be some knight in shining armour, he too was a criminal. Kija wondered whether the man fully realised that or if he was just pointedly ignoring the truth.

“So you steal it back? Give it to the people it was taken from?” the detective questioned, not the least bit happy with himself for not being able to stop himself from asking.

“Essentially,” his cellmate said from his bunk. “And you? You’re much too young and pretty to be some hard-boiled criminal so what’s your deal?”

Kija sighed, thinking how unlucky the combination of his fake charges and his cellmate’s ideals was. “Well, I’m here for tax fraud.”

Jae-ha didn’t say anything for a moment and then he whistled. “So you steal from the people to make money off their back, huh?”

His cellmate’s judgmental tone was to be expected and Kija found himself agreeing with this peculiar man and his stance on crime, even if he was a criminal himself. What Kija hadn’t expected was that the words would sting. He was a man of pride and principles and the thought of pretending to be a criminal was already troubling enough; Kija didn’t need other people judging him for who he wasn’t and what he hadn’t done. Not that he should care, he told himself.

“Well, ‘stole’. They caught me.”

“You’re lucky they did,” his cellmate said and this time his tone was as cold as ice. “Because if they hadn’t, I would have and I don’t think you would have liked that.”

Kija shifted uncomfortably on the top bunk. Somewhere in the distance, a buzzer sounded and the lights went out.

After having gotten used to the constant buzz of chatter and background noise, Kija felt his skin crawl. All sounds from the cells had suddenly died out, like a blown-out candle, and the silence was so piercing that it almost swallowed him then and there. For a moment, he wondered if time hadn’t broken entirely and he was just stuck between the hands of the clock, one second stretching into an eternity until neither sound nor light could travel through.

That was until he heard his cellmate speak again, his voice creeping up Kija’s skin: “Lights-out, honey. You better crawl into bed or they’ll make your first night here one to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's me returning from a long hiatus during which life happened and things got real (I'm in my 3rd year of uni now??). So I have come back to the magical realm of fanfiction... But hey, at least I'm not coming back to writing about impossible scenarios where fictional characters lust over each other and eventually realise they are gay for one another, right? Oh wait...
> 
> PS: Definitely didn't write this while on my 7-hour flight... Also, writing during turbulence is super fun.
> 
> Anyways, I'm planning on updating this fic once a week (or twice if lucky) so stay tuned for the next part. Thank you for reading! :)


	2. A Herald of Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! Thank you giving this fic a shot and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)

—Jae-ha—

What an absolute disaster this was going to be. As if Jae-ha’s situation hadn’t been complicated enough as it was, now he had a whole new problem to deal with. Even after all the trouble he’d gone through to stay friendly with the guards so he could keep the cell to himself, here stood this pretty little fraudster with the potential to ruin two months of perfect planning.

His new cellmate was bound to be trouble, for more reasons than just one. Sure, it annoyed Jae-ha that Kija was the very epitome of what he had spent the better part of his life fighting against but that was not even half the problem.

No, the problem was that Kija might notice the loose screws of their toilet and move it, even just an inch, at which point he would inevitably come face-to-face with the gaping hole in the wall behind it.

And then what? Jae-ha would spend the rest of his days in isolation and the crew would have to wait the full two years to serve their sentences. Memorising the routine of the guards, timing each headcount and buzzer, acquiring the right tools from the prison’s black market, and digging that hole — it would all have been in vain if Jae-ha couldn’t think of a way to deal with his cellmate. He’d already spent the waking part of the morning before the first buzzer wracking his brain, trying to figure out what to do from here and failing to come up with any solid plan.

What an absolute disaster, he thought again.

As the first buzzer echoed across the prison, Jae-ha was the first out of his bunk, making sure to go ahead and do his business before his new cellie had woken up. Jae-ha had to give the kid some credit at the very least — whereas Jae-ha had managed to sleep through the buzzer on his first morning and earned a hosing from the guard, Kija was already up, his feet dangling off the edge of the top bunk. Judging from the way he was staring at the patches of prison life visible between the bars, the kid either had forgotten he’d be waking up locked in a cell or he was simply experiencing the misery of all newcomers.

It certainly didn’t help Jae-ha’s predicament that the man standing in his cell was young, probably only a few years younger than him, and handsome. It was distracting that he was beautiful the way sunrise was, with that soft alabaster hair and soft pale skin, light bouncing off sharp jaw and cheekbones. From the way he held himself in that sardine box of a cell, it looked like he didn’t belong in prison at all. There was something jarringly wrong with his presence in the cell — the blues they’d made him wear didn’t suit him at all and he seemed utterly out of place against the thick concrete walls and behind the steel bars.

What a shame indeed. Had he been anyone but a lowlife criminal, Kija would have probably caught his eye for entirely different reasons.

The very first thing Jae-ha had done once he was out of his bunk had been to make sure that the screws of the toilet were back in. He hadn’t had the time to check before getting thrown into isolation but his worry eased when he confirmed that the industrial bolts were in, even though they were loosely screwed. Now all he had left was to hope that Kija wouldn’t find it odd that the screws were placed just a bit to the right of their original position as indicated by the rings of ruddy-brown rust.

If luck was on Jae-ha’s side, his cellie would be too preoccupied with his first impressions of life in prison to notice and even if he did, Jae-ha would be out before he could put two and two together. Which, in itself, posed another problem but Jae-ha was tackling the issues one at a time or else he risked adding one too many wrinkles to his face.

Jae-ha was in the middle of some vigorous tooth-brushing by the time his cellmate lowered himself from the top bunk. Kija greeted him good morning and Jae-ha responded with some sort of acknowledging noise, then rinsed his mouth and went to wait by the bars for the doors to open.

From there, he could see the prison slowly coming to life. Each cell was like a world of its own, a piece of interrupted existence that still continued, though without much meaning other than to wait for life to resume once the prison sentence was over. One thing Jae-ha hated most in this world was having his freedom taken away from him; prison had done just that and then some.

“Jae-ha, may I ask you something?” his cellie said, catching him by surprise.

Jae-ha’s mood continued to sour. He had to admit that he hadn’t expected the boy to speak to him at all, much less have any desire to ask him questions, not after the terms of their last conversation. Then again, it was only natural that a newbie would have questions about the kind of place he’d gotten thrown into and Jae-ha wasn’t going to deny him answers simply because he didn’t like him.

“What, they didn’t give you the move-in pamphlet?”

Admittedly, Jae-ha wouldn’t have picked a fight with his cellmate last night had he not been so severely disappointed. Because that was it, wasn’t it? He had seen this pretty boy in his cell and hoped he’d turn out to be a decent person. It was his own fault for assuming the best out of people and this time the joke was on him, even more so than usual because he’d had high expectations of none other than a criminal. Perhaps he’d thought Kija would be a bit like him, or simply someone who’d gotten thrown in the slammer for some petty little crime. Perhaps he’d have offered him to join their escape if that had been the case.

“There is no such pamphlet, is there?” Kija asked, his voice projecting the kind of innocence and naivety that could get you in some serious trouble at Awa State Penitentiary.

Jae-ha sighed. “Nope.”

“Right. I meant to ask about the people here, the type who got locked up for laundering and the like—“

“Your type,” Jae-ha remarked with a sharp smile.

His cellmate ignored the jab. “Are all of them involved with that Kum-Ji person? You know, the mafia boss who got thrown in here a while back?”

“Kum-Ji?” Jae-ha couldn’t help but look back at Kija’s reflection in the mirror. “What, you wanna try your luck with the big shots?”

“No, I just want to know who’s calling the shots here.”

The buzzer sounded and the electric locks on the doors clicked in unison, signalled they were free to roam around the prison now. Jae-ha stayed in his place, leaning on the bars. He wondered just how much he should tell his cellmate and if giving him more information was indeed the best strategy or not.

“Kum-Ji’s got everyone here wrapped around his finger but he doesn’t like people he doesn’t know,” Jae-ha said. “No one outside his circle can so much as look his way unless they want trouble.”  
“So how does one get an audience with him?”

The conversation had taken an interesting turn, even though Jae-ha wasn’t certain how to feel about it just yet. His first thought had been simple, almost binary: more trouble. After all, he’d never heard any newbie ask such blatant questions, least of all about someone like Yang Kum-Ji. Even some of the inmates who had already served a few years here were wary of throwing that name around and yet this fresh blood here looked as though he wasn’t even the least bit concerned. 

“The same way you get an audience with the King,” Jae-ha said. “You don’t.”

Jae-ha didn’t like that there was something in this boy’s eyes that he recognised but could not pinpoint. He’d seen it before, in the eyes of the men who’d hunted him, the detectives and agents who thought they were better than those they were out to catch. The kid seemed skeptical of what he’d been told, as if he thought he had the power to break the daily order around him with sheer determination.

Before his cellmate could ask any more questions, Jae-ha turned to the door of their cell. “Look, it’s not any of my business and if you know what’s best for you, it’s not going to be any of yours either.”  
It was a piece of genuine advice but Jae-ha knew the ways of reverse psychology and just how strong their hold could be. The more he thought about it, the more he recognised an opportunity in the making. An ambitious little tax fraudster like Kija looked naive enough to think he could mingle with Kum-Ji’s crowd; he certainly looked green enough to try. Perhaps Kum-Ji would turn him down; perhaps he might even order his men to pull a shiv on him. But it was certainly an interesting opportunity to observe Kum-Ji’s reaction to Kija and something told Jae-ha he was in for a show.

Maybe — just maybe — he would let himself enjoy the spectacle.

Jae-ha headed out of the cell and blended with the other inmates on the row. He heard rustling behind him and knew that Kija had also followed him out but thankfully, the kid seemed to have gotten the hint. Jae-ha decided it best to let the events play out without his interference, opting to place as much distance between himself and this whole mess as he could, for the time being. For now, he’d leave Kija to his own devices and attempt to sort out his thoughts. 

The universe, however, seemed to have other plans for him. Trouble was in abundance this morning, Jae-ha noted bitterly, as he brushed past the last person he wanted to be crossing paths with today.  
Hiyou and the rest of his ‘pack’ — that was how Jae-ha addressed them anyway — were headed in the opposite direction to everyone else and while they could walk through a minefield for all he cared, something didn’t seem right. He nodded to Hiyou curtly but otherwise kept his eyes forward and wasn’t planning on lingering in the row long enough to find out what was going on.

“Hey there, love,” he heard Hiyou say and felt his stomach clench. “You just gonna walk past me like that?”

It seemed the question was directed not at Jae-ha but towards his new cellmate because, behind him, he heard Kija answer: “Should I have said something?”

Jae-ha slowed down, his stomach twisting with the knowledge that this had been entirely the wrong answer. Was the kid truly clueless to the point of not even realising that someone like him shouldn’t be making enemies in prison on his first day, or did he simply not care enough?

Either way, his new cellmate was making a grave mistake. 

“This one seems a bit headstrong,” came Hiyou’s annoying voice and Jae-ha had heard it plenty of times to sense the underlying threat in his tone. “I like him.”

Jae-ha tensed. Hiyou was a nasty man, an animal, and his followers were no different. They were a gang of lowlifes, their desires rooted in seeking out entertainment to survive their days in prison, but they weren’t harmless. So far, Jae-ha had managed to stay out of their way, though not without trouble. He knew they carried shivs in their sleeves — he’d learned that the hard way — but they hadn’t expected him to be an experienced fighter and their mistake had left Hiyou a nasty scar across the forehead. After that, Jae-ha had spent his first night in isolation, though it wasn’t going to be his last, as time had proven.

He considered his options. He could leave his new cellie to handle this by himself. At the very least, he’d learn a valuable lesson in prison etiquette. After all, it wasn’t Jae-ha’s problem nor his business to go meddling in someone else’s mess, much less if it meant he’d bring trouble onto himself. Again.

‘Just leave it’, Jae-ha told himself. ‘Don’t get involved’.

For now, at the very least, all he had to be doing was gathering the rest of the crew so they could sort out their predicament — he needed to find them before he did anything he might regret later. And boy, was he two steps away from doing precisely that.

“I have an offer for you, love.”

Daring a glance behind him, Jae-ha could see the tightness of Kija’s jaw and only the back of Hiyou’s head as the man stared his new cellmate up and down.

“You do?” said Jae-ha despite himself. “Well, whatever it is, I doubt he’d wanna hear it so stop hanging around in front of my cell. You’re ruining the view.”

The leader of the pack was quick to turn around and seize him up. “Oh, so they locked the two pretty boys in together? That’s no fun for the rest of us.”

“Don’t you have other puppets to play around with?”

Hiyou took a step towards him. “Feeling jealous of him, Jae-ha? Don’t worry, we’ve got special plans for you, just give it time. I’m interested in him now.”

Jae-ha laughed and if the man in front of him had known better, he would have sensed just how dire his situation was going to get. “Didn’t I warn you what would happen if you crossed my path again?”

The leader glared up at him, and leered. “And didn’t I warn you what would happen to that mouth of yours if you—?“

With a smile sharper than a blade, Jae-ha thrust his right foot upward, in a swooping arc. It caught the man right across the jaw and Hiyou was falling, flung to the side by the force of the swing like a hooked fish being pulled out of water. He crashed against the railing of the second floor and Jae-ha’s gaze held him down.

Perhaps Jae-ha really shouldn’t have gotten involved but boy, did it feel good to have a reason to do that.

After a moment, he stepped back, still wearing the same sharp smile. “Now I’ve got an offer for you — leave us alone or I’m going to have to add another scar to your collection.”

Jae-ha turned around, crossing the rest of the row in long strides before Hiyou could decide that he hadn’t suffered enough humiliation for the day.

He really shouldn’t have gotten involved but — and it had all come down to a single ‘but’ — Jae-ha realised he held genuine curiosity to see what Kija would do if left on his own. Perhaps it would have been best to let Hiyou deal with him; it would have only sent the kid to the infirmary for a week, giving Jae-ha enough time to solve all of his current problems. But, and there was that ‘but’ again, he wanted to see what this kid had in mind. He was certain he hadn’t mistaken the intensity of his gaze and he wanted to see what he could do, just how far he could go without people like Hiyou in his way.

“Thank you,” Kija told him as he fell in step behind him.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s just not in my nature to leave things like that,” Jae-ha said and it was partly the truth. “I do what I like when I like it and it just so happened that I decided to stretch my leg at the right time.”

“Seems to me like you two have it out for one another.”

Jae-ha chuckled. They did; there was almost a mutual desire to kill the other and plenty of frustration at being limited to do so without adding to their sentence.

“I just really despise animals like him,” he said after a moment, realising it was perhaps the first truth he’d told his new cellmate so far.

People like Hiyou brought back memories of a past that Jae-ha hadn’t shared with anyone — not even Gi-gan and the gang — nor did he ever plan on sharing. He’d always thought that he could forget about it and that when he did, it would be erased from history. However, while the outside world had helped him, being stuck in prison with people like Hiyou did things to him. Hiyou would call him ‘love’ and sneer, and Jae-ha would instantly be reduced to something less than a man. His mind would enter survival mode and his brain would cloud with memories akin to nightmares.

But Hiyou was not Garou, not even close, and Jae-ha had survived the torment of one animal — he would not let another take the same place.

“Won’t that get you in trouble with the guards?” Kija asked as they descended the stairs.

“Only if he’s sent to the infirmary but trust me when I say that I’d be the happiest man alive if that happens.”

“What about them?” Honestly, what was up with those questions? “Won’t they retaliate after what you just did?”

“They can’t do anything to me.” Jae-ha turned around to smile at his cellie but it was mostly fake. “Just to be clear, darling, we’re not suddenly best buds so stop following me around. I don’t like babysitting.”

Jae-ha waved him good-bye and left the queue of inmates seeping into the empty canteen so he could head out to the yard. There was usually an hour until breakfast so Jae-ha and his crew had made it their habit to go out to the court before and during the first hour of breakfast while most inmates were inside. While in the yard, Jae-ha usually ran laps for a few miles, did pull-ups at the bars and push-ups if he felt like it. The rest of the crew would play basketball to pass time. Normally, they would talk inside, only after they were done with their routine and had gathered in the canteen for breakfast. Today, Jae-ha wasn’t planning on waiting for them to finish their game.

Before entering the yard, Jae-ha was frisked, though it felt more like being patted down rather than thoroughly searched. One of these days there was going to be another stabbing on the court and it was all going to be because this guard was as listless as one of the morphies over at the psych ward. Jae-ha knew that the guard didn’t even bother checking anyone when larger groups of inmates entered the yard so there was no point in the frisks anyway. 

Once outside, Jae-ha saw the gang already out by their usual place and waiting for him. It wasn’t difficult to spot them — they were the liveliest bunch of prisoners in the Penitentiary.

Although it was significantly quieter compared to late afternoons, there were still inmates out in the large courtyard. The gangs who had their own staked-out bits of ground weren’t out yet so the area wasn’t exactly hostile at this hour. Some inmates were working out, as Jae-ha would have done had it not been for the emergency meeting, while others sat under the sun, against a wall, or just on the sand before it had heated up enough to start burning their flesh.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but things aren’t looking too rosy,” Jae-ha said as soon as he was within earshot.

“We heard about the new cellie,” Rowan said, scratching the back of his head. “Seems like our plan just got a whole lot more complicated.”

“That,” Maya heaved, panting as he took the ball from Ryou, “is the understatement of the century.”

Jae-ha felt that the five men shared his unease. It was reassuring, to a certain extent, but it mostly made him even more apprehensive because this grand plan of his wasn’t about his escape at all — it was about theirs.

Ryou was the one who brought Jae-ha’s inner turmoil to the table: “Why don’t we take him with us? He won’t talk if he’s in on it.”

That seemed the most rational decision, didn’t it? At first, Jae-ha had thought so too; when he’d seen him in the cell for the first time, dangling his feet from the top bunk, Jae-ha had almost pictured their escape. But after learning of his charges? Sure, maybe he wasn’t a murderer but it would make Jae-ha a hypocrite nonetheless. If he broke out a man whom he’d have otherwise sent behind bars wouldn’t he be betraying his own convictions?

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s too early to tell what he’ll do.” Jae-ha’s head hurt from the thoughts that were jumbled up in his mind. “But he’s interesting.”

“Listen, you pervert, we don’t have time for that sort of thing!” Maya all but yelled at him.

“I always have time for that sort of thing,” Jae-ha said with a smile. “What I mean to say is that he’s asking some interesting questions.”

“About?”

“Kum-Ji. Looks like the kid’s interested in him.”

His crew members exchanged looks, various degrees of confusion written across their faces. “So what are you gonna do?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? “I’ll just observe him for now. I have a feeling he’s hiding something and you bet I’m going to find out what.”

Rowen didn’t seem all too convinced. “And what about the hole?”

“I’ll tighten the screws for now. If he’s a heavy sleeper I won’t have much trouble slipping in after the last headcount.”

Inmates were starting to flood into the yard and it was going to get progressively more dangerous to talk about that kind of thing. The crew exchanged some more information — about what had happened during the two days that Jae-ha had spent in isolation, about how far Jae-ha had gotten with navigating across the tunnels. 

When the yard started getting crowded and the topics of discussion became too sensitive for outsiders, they decided to head in for breakfast. Like fish swimming upstream, the crew headed through a river of convicts. Dozens of them were flooding through the gates now and Jae-ha knew to stay vigilant at times like these. In such a crowd, anyone not paying attention could get shanked and the guards would not notice until they discovered the corpse in the wake of the crowd. Jae-ha didn’t turn around even if he heard people calling his name. His eyes were scanning the mass of inmates in search of Hiyou and his pack but none of them could be seen walking amongst the convicts.

Upon entering the canteen, the crew took their place at the end of the line. The PI inmates who were doing kitchen service at the other end doled out food in plastic trays and didn’t seem all too bothered when Jae-ha reached out to grab a second roll of bread. Maya gave him a look but Jae-ha ignored it and hid the extra roll so the guards wouldn’t see it. To no one’s surprise at all, the few armed guards that were patrolling the canteen seemed openly bored and uncaring. 

The canteen was filled with long tables and benches, all of which were bolted down to the floor. The crew took their seats at the usual table where they had a nice open view of the rest of the room and there was only a wall behind them so the chances of anyone taking them by surprise were significantly lower.

“Jae-ha,” said Toku under his breath. “Why is Hiyou shooting daggers at our table?”

Jae-ha looked over at Hiyou’s usual table, where he could indeed see the leader and his pack staring him down. “Bet he’s hoping I’m going to choke.”

It wouldn’t be difficult, not when the blob of grey oatmeal mess on his tray looked about as unappetizing as it tasted, just slime sliding down his throat. Jae-ha could never get used to prison food.  
“Heard there was a scuffle in the morning,” Rowen noted, casting a side-way look at him. “Don’t tell me you were involved.”

“In my defense, he had it coming.”

Rowen only chuckled and shook his head, while Maya lapsed into a full-blown verbal attack against Jae-ha’s lack of better judgement.

Jae-ha let him, all the while his gaze scanned the canteen. Not many inmates had remained, most of them having gone to the yard after breakfast. Of the few that remained, his new silver-haired cellmate was the one that caught his attention. Now that Jae-ha was considering observing Kija’s intentions, he took care in watching him more closely.

It wasn’t uncommon for a fish to watch the guard patrols — be it out of fear, curiosity, or even some common sense of self-preservation. Kija, however, wasn’t even paying attention to the armed correctional officers as they patrolled around the canteen. His eyes weren’t roaming the place in search of escape either. Jae-ha had to admit that most inmates, including him, had done that during their first days but not Kija, it seemed.

As he followed Kija’s line of sight, he could tell the kid had other plans. Because his new cellmate was looking straight at Yang Kum-Ji and his men, the lines of his forehead bent in concentration.

Things were finally going to start getting interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are indeed starting to get interesting. I had to go back to the manga to see how exactly Jae-ha handled his first meeting with Yona and Kija so that I wouldn't write him out of character. It was important to me that I capture Jae-ha's turmoil of distrusting and disliking Kija's undercover identity and also his willingness to, despite everything, still help and observe him. Hope I managed to do that in this chapter because the pace is only going to be picking up from now on until pretty much the very end.
> 
> I'm glad I had most of this written already because it has been such a hectic week, like, wow. Next week there will be one update rather than two and I'm going to be aiming to post it on Thursday but no promises. Stay tuned and thank you for reading! :)


	3. Testing the Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)

—Kija—

Prison was supposed to be a purgatory of sorts, keeping society’s dregs out of the streets and the country’s unwanted sons locked away where they couldn’t do harm to anybody but themselves and those just like them. Prison was supposed to be a place where the most corrupt, the most violent men were sent to rot away and the murders, the fiends were kept chained to restrain their urges. It was what Kija’s father had always told him and what the Academy had always taught them. But in reality, prison was turning out to be nothing more than a miniature of society — the people here were all just misfits trying to pass their days.

Some of the inmates were kids, not much younger than Kija had been when he’d joined the Academy, but they hadn’t had his privileged background and had gotten locked up because they’d tried to steal money they had needed. The youngest boy in the prison had stolen a watch he’d thought he’d pawn for no more than fifty bucks, if lucky, but it had turned out to be worth a small fortune, landing him a five-year sentence for grand larceny. The largest man in the prison, built like a wrestler, had been accused of a murder he hadn’t committed just because he’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time and the police had profiled him based on stereotypes and prejudice.

Kija hadn’t expected to find people worth his sympathy in prison. There were still those like Hiyou and Kum-Ji but they were the exception rather than the norm and that revelation had scared Kija most of all. His beliefs in the system he’d sworn to serve would never be shaken but he was slowly coming to realise he had been blind to so many circumstances. He’d never considered exceptions or other possibilities.

What was right about a misfit kid who’d lost his path now rotting away in a prison, losing the rest of his chances at a normal life? What was fair about somebody serving for another’s crimes because they’d taken a different path to work that day? He wasn’t certain anymore.

It was almost ironic how more often than not these days, all Kija could remember was that one course report he’d had to write on prison when he’d been studying at the Academy. Back then, he’d looked at prison as if it were redundant to his memory — he’d always known he’d be out in the field catching criminals and as long as he did that well, he wouldn’t have to think about where they’d be sent after he had caught them. Prison had seemed a whole universe away; it had never weighed on his mind, had never troubled him enough to make him wonder what happened inside the cells and behind all the bars.

Up until now, Kija had never quite been interested in knowing more than he needed to. He was beginning to regret he’d never bothered to look behind his shoulder as he’d escorted criminals to prison. Would he have seen fear, or perhaps hatred — at fate, at the world, at him? And most of all, was it too late to change that?

When Kija entered the canteen, he was once again reminded of the regret he felt for all the times he’d been just another ignorant officer thinking his agenda stood above somebody’s future.

It was dinner time for the inmates but Kija wasn’t in the mood for the same old grey slab of chow that the boy could still not be certain was entirely edible. In fact, he felt he wouldn’t be able to eat even the smallest of bites. His stomach was tangled up in knots and his palms were slick with sweat from anticipation.

Today was the day Kija had been waiting for. And as he made his way to Yang Kum-Ji’s table, calmly but with a certain degree of resolution, he knew this was the only opportunity he’d have at grabbing the mafia lord’s attention.

Kija could feel Jae-ha’s gaze following him around as per usual these days. It made him uneasy, restless even. He hadn’t managed to understand the reason behind his cellmate’s interest in his actions and it kept him on edge, reminding him again and again not to drop his guard. Kija could not be sure what his cellmate and his gang were up to and it unnerved him that he was now on their radar.

Even so, Jae-ha and his men would have to sit back and await their turn. Kija didn’t have time to deal with them today. His eyes were on the prize and he was going to make his way to it, even if every single inmate at the Penitentiary were to stand in his path.

As Kija approached the mafia lord’s table, two men barred his way. He’d, of course, expected them, feeling no surprise as they positioned themselves directly in front of him. The men were tall and wide, their jaws set in a way that told him they were ready to grab and shove him to the side at the slightest sign of danger.

“You have no business here,” one of the men told him. “Step away.”

Kija had observed them enough to know that they wouldn’t act without Kum-Ji’s explicit order so he didn’t feel threatened by their presence. Not yet, at least.

“On the contrary, I have business to discuss with your boss,” the boy said simply.

The man on his right rested his meaty hand on his shoulder and although it may have looked like a harmless gesture to those around them, it was anything but. Kija could feel the cold metal of the shiv which the man had hidden in his palm as the blade pressed against his neck.

“I have information on Sei affairs, particularly regarding the transportation of precious merchandise,” Kija said, laying his bait with patience, as agent Soo-Won had taught him. Sooner or later, Kum-Ji would bite. “But if that is not of your interest, I shall take my leave.”

Kija’s mission was simple, in theory: extract the names of Kum-Ji’s contacts on the outside and the details of all the businesses he owned. In practice, Kija would have to strike a deal with the mafia lord to obtain that sort of information and Kum-Ji would never negotiate with just anyone.

But Kija wasn’t just anyone. Even though he didn’t have his badge or his gun and no one here knew the kind of criminals he’d succeeded in capturing only in his first year at the Bureau, he wasn’t sent undercover under some poorly planned identity. He was, supposedly, a conglomerate executive with his connections spreading to Sei and Xing, where Kum-Ji desperately craved for control, and he owned illegal distribution channels spreading across all borders. He had officials in his pocket and wealthy executives at his disposal. Maybe it was all just a lie but with the Bureau working tirelessly to maintain it, anyone on the outside would find it impossible to see behind the intricate web of deception.

From behind the two men blocking his way, Kija could see Kum-Ji exchange a look with one of his lackeys, a man with long dark hair which obscured one of his eyes.

“What of Sei affairs?” the intermediary asked, stepping forward.

“I believe I have made myself perfectly clear,” Kija said, not even bothering to look at the man as he locked eyes with the real target of this operation. “I’d like to discuss business with your boss, not his middleman.”

Kum-Ji considered him for an instant and then nodded. “It’s alright, let him through.”

The pressure of the jarred edge of the blade against Kija’s neck eased, then disappeared altogether. After a moment, the two men barring his path now stood back, leaving Kija to stand directly in front of Kum-Ji. 

With Kija now face-to-face with the man whose downfall he’d spent months planning and imagining, he felt uneasy, like a fish flapping its tail surrounded by sharks. The man had the same hulking frame and rough appearance he’d seen on photographs but up close, it gave him an even sharper edge. With his beard and moustache completely grown out, Kum-Ji almost looked like a violent thug rather than a mafia lord but he was still no less disgusting than Kija imagined a human trafficking leader to be.

Kum-Ji’s bug-like eyes studied him. “I don’t tolerate people who waste my time.” 

“What I have to say is anything but a waste of your time, I can assure you,” the boy said with determination. “You may even go so far as to say each of us has what the other needs.”

“In that case, those are not matters to be discussed here.” Kum-Ji stood up, now towering over him. “Follow me, boy.”

With a sudden jolt, Kija realised most of the inmates in the canteen were throwing glances at them, perhaps startled at the change of daily order around the prison. Outsiders didn’t get to talk to Kum-Ji in private, that was what Jae-ha had told him. But his cellmate had clearly underestimated Kija’s determination.

As Kija followed the mafia lord and his men through the canteen, he found himself seeking Jae-ha’s gaze with his own. Perhaps he simply wished to see the look of surprise his cellmate would undoubtedly have written across his face. Jae-ha, however, was nowhere to be found. 

Kum-Ji led him to a hallway that swerved left of the kitchens and continued past the room with the cleaning supplies, past the loading bay and the guards stationed in front of the security doors. No one heeded them any mind and if any of the inmates on PI duty saw them, they averted their eyes immediately. Kija had never had reason to inspect this particular corridor before, having only seen Kum-Ji use it when he was having a meeting. It seemed as though it stretched for a good hundred-meters because it felt like an eternity had passed before they finally reached the last room at the end of the corridor.

“This used to be the old infirmary,” Kum-Ji said, as he led Kija into the room. “The guards were generous enough to let me use it to conduct my business.”

Kija suspected the guards’ generosity was born entirely out of bribery rather than good will.

The room, even though supposedly once an infirmary, was devoid of anything but a desk with two chairs, one at each side, and a painting on the wall — something which Kija found odd in the otherwise empty space. There wasn’t anything else, save for a vent on the ceiling and the chips of paint falling off the walls. Awa State Penitentiary wasn’t exactly known for investing in improving the inmates’ living conditions.

“No sudden movements,” one of the men told Kija as he patted him down, searching for any hidden items.

Once the man was satisfied with the frisk, Kum-Ji gestured for Kija to join him at the desk. 

“Time is money, my boy,” the mafia boss said. “Speak.”

Kija felt almost dizzy as he crossed the small room, his legs heavy and his heartbeat quickening. Once he’d sat opposite the man, Kija sensed his breath becoming jarred, shaky even, so he stilled himself for the briefest of moments. The realisation that this was his only opportunity to make Kum-Ji bow to the money and greed Kija could promise him was now weighing on him in its full crushing mass. 

“Rumour has it, you’ve been profiting a great deal from your trafficking deals with Kai but I reckon Sei is a much more desirable destination for traffic. Any of the bigger cities in Sei would bring in triple the profit you get from the whole of Kai, isn’t that right?”

Kum-Ji eyed him warily. “And what of it?”

“I have also heard that you’ve been looking for a channel to get your shipments into Sei, though you’ve been unsuccessful so far.”

“I see, you believe that you can do that for me,” the mafia lord said. “I warned you not to test my patience, boy.”

“As a matter of fact, I can do that for you, seeing as I recently invested in building my very own network of distribution channels to Sei,” Kija lied.

From the back of the room, where Kum-Ji’s intermediary had remained standing, came a sound of dismay.

“If it were a matter of money, we would have secured a channel by now!” the man bellowed, clearly done with Kija.

“I believe I am discussing business with Lord Kum-Ji,” Kija said, earning a glare of death from the man and another, more difficult to read look from the mafia boss. If the boy had to guess, he’d say he’d managed to either impress or infuriate him. 

Kija tried to appear comfortable by leaning back against the chair as if this was a business discussion he had had many times before but he just felt uncomfortable, like he was wearing someone else’s skin. His heart was still threatening to leap out of his chest, making matters even worse.

Then, Kum-Ji signalled with his hand for Kija to continue talking.

“It is a matter of money as much as it is one of political affairs,” he explained. “That is why my channels to Sei pass through Xing.”

“Xing?” Kum-Ji repeated and there was something akin to genuine surprise in his voice.

“Sei and Kouka borders may be under great scrutiny but those between Sei and Xing are especially lax due to the agreement of free movement the countries signed last year,” Kija continued. “Officials there won’t look twice over trucks of supposed workers looking for labour in Sei factories.”

Kum-Ji hummed. “What about Xing and Kouka borders? I had a shipment blocked there last week.”

Last week? Kija felt a chill run through him, the realisation that Kum-Ji’s stay in prison hadn’t hindered the operations at all now sending jolts of lightning up his spine. It was precisely as the Bureau had feared but it didn’t make the truth any less bitter or unsettling.

“Let us say that those officials who value money have been bribed accordingly and those who have proven more stubborn have secrets they would rather the world never knew of,” Kija said, not for the first time regretting that he’d had to use such disgusting lies to get to Kum-Ji — even since the start, he’d know he’d find lying to be the most difficult part of the mission.

Back in the Academy, when they’d had their negotiation lessons, Kija had been partnered with Soo-Won, who had even at the time been the brightest agent amongst the whole team. He’d lacked Hak’s strength or Kija’s deductive skills but he’d known strategy and tactics like no other agent had. One of the first lessons he’d shared with Kija had been that negotiation was a game of words and will. The more enticing the words and the stronger the determination, the easier it was to set the rules. Everyone had a lever, something that they desired and which had the power to force them out into the game, drive them into making a move.

Kum-Ji’s lever was money — dirty money, the kind that was earned from the blood, sweat, and tears of innocent people — and greed. He bowed to the two like a man would bow to gods, and Soo-Won had taught Kija just how easily levers could be twisted into traps.

The man studied him now, for a long moment during which Kija could see the lever at work, the promise of money and greed dangling like a carrot in front of a workhorse. Little did Kum-Ji know that Kija was the one pulling the strings here.

“Who are you?” the mafia lord asked finally. 

“Kija,” he introduced himself. “Currently serving for tax fraud.”

“And how does a corporate climber know the ins and outs of such a nasty business like human trafficking?”

“Tax fraud is what they caught me for, yes,” Kija lied. “But it is a far cry from all that I have been involved in.”

Now, Kum-Ji smiled but there was a violent streak to it, like the twitch on a wolf’s face before it went for the prey’s neck. The mafia lord undoubtedly thought he was on the winning side here, that even more money would come flooding in and the boy in front of him would be just another handy puppet to control.

“You’re an interesting young man, promising even.” Kum-Ji regarded him for another moment before he spoke again. “In my line of work, trust is everything and it is difficult to earn. I consider myself a cautious man, you see.”

“Naturally,” Kija said.

“Then how about I give you a task?” Kum-Ji suggested. “Consider it an opportunity to prove that I can place my trust in you.”

Kija tried to conjure agent Hak’s self-confident smirk but he was entirely certain he wasn’t going to succeed in replicating it so he simply said, “What may I assist with?”

“A new drug has been making its way into Kouka all the way from Kai — they call it nadai. It has been bringing plenty of profits already but I would like to see if it can hold well in other countries too.”

Kija tensed — not because he was doubting the Bureau’s ability to assist Kija in making sure he’d pass Kum-Ji’s test but because this was the first time he was hearing of this nadai drug. The fact that the Bureau didn’t have information on it was concerning for more reasons than just one. It meant Kum-Ji had completely eluded them on that front, for one. It also meant that they couldn’t know how many people had been affected by it already and whether it had taken any casualties.

If there was a new drug on Kouka’s streets, the Bureau should have known about it by now. The fact that they didn’t suggested that they were one step behind Kum-Ji, perhaps even more than one. 

“You said you can arrange shipments overseas,” Kum-Ji continued. “Then how about you help my men take the drug to Sei? If you do well, I will take your offer into account.”

“Consider it done.” Kija forced himself to smile but he had been clenching his jaw so hard that it felt almost painful having to relax it. “I will require contact information which I can pass along to my men on the outside.”

“Kye-Sook, give this man all the information he needs.”

“Of course, boss,” the man who’d snapped at Kija earlier said.

Kum-Ji signalled at Kija that he was free to leave — or rather, that he was expected to leave. After the boy had stood and made his way to the door, Kye-Sook passed him a note.

“Should this not work out, you understand that it’s going to be your funeral, right?” the man hissed.

“I am aware,” Kija said on his way out.

Once outside, the adrenaline rushed out of him like a blown-out candle and Kija found himself stumbling blindly into the first room that crossed his path, which turned out to be the one with the cleaning supplies. An inmate on PI duty informed him he had no business inside but there were no guards in sight so Kija waved him off. He took a seat on the ground, with his back pressed against the wall and his legs bent at the knees.

He tried to catch his breath but it felt as if he’d sprinted a mile and then some — his heart was thumping loudly and he felt weak. His chest was tight, clutching tighter still. He was sweaty and he could feel himself shaking. A part of him was content, proud even that the first part of his plan had been a success, but that part was silenced by the overwhelming panic that had been rising throughout the meeting and had finally reached its peak. With the adrenaline of the meeting now rapidly leaving his body, he felt like he was spiralling into horror.

There was noise in his ears, noise that Kija knew didn’t actually exist and was just a product of his panic attack. He needed to get a grip but it had been such a long time since he’d felt so nervous that he’d forgotten to look for the signs. Even as he’d sensed the triggers appear one by one during the talk, he’d shoved it all aside. Even as he’d felt himself going into a panic, he’d still pushed on, refusing to give in to his weakness.

Kija stayed like that for a few minutes until he could feel the panic subside and he was certain the attack had passed. It wasn’t his proudest moment but at least it was over. 

From thereon out, he spent the rest of the evening in a sort of daze. Once he’d returned to the canteen, he sought out agent Shin-ah with his eyes, whom he knew to be patrolling there at this hour, and found the agent already looking at him. The two exchanged knowing looks and Kija crumbled up the note Kye-Sook had given him, tossing it into a corner for Shin-ah to pick up once Kija had left the room. He had made sure to add his own intel to the notes the intermediary had supplied, laying out all the information he’d gathered and also the nature of the task he’d been given. It was the Bureau’s move now.

With nothing better to do and feeling drained from the panic attack earlier, Kija made his way back to his cell. He hadn’t expected Jae-ha to already be there, especially considering there were still a few minutes until the evening buzzer and he had noticed that his cellmate usually preferred being in Kija’s company as little as possible.

“Anything exciting happen today?” Jae-ha asked as the boy entered their cell, catching Kija by surprise with his sudden willingness to talk.

Kija took note of the way Jae-ha was leaning against the bunks — casually at a glance though upon closer inspection it seemed staged. He had his arms locked in front of his chest and his trademark lazy smile was sharper, almost predatory.

“Nothing at all,” Kija said with caution. He sensed trouble.

“Really?” Jae-ha asked, the lightness in his voice completely fake. “I’d say you and Kum-Ji becoming business partners is cause for celebration.”

Kija eyed him warily. “You certainly seem to know a great deal about what I do and whom I talk to.”

“Don’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret?”

“If you’re assuming I’m not aware that you’ve been watching my every move, you’re wrong,” Kija warned, feeling too tired to be arguing with his cellmate right now and yet too stubborn to back down. “My deliberate shortsighted is not to be mistaken with blindness.”

“I told you before, I do what I want to,” Jae-ha said. “Maybe I just like looking at your face.”

Kija felt his cheeks burn from the sting of the blatant disrespect of that comment and he felt himself getting angry.

“Maybe you shouldn’t get involved in matters that aren’t of your concern.”

The buzzer sounded and he almost jumped out of his skin, startled from the sound but also because he’d sensed trouble and had been too concentrated on dealing with Jae-ha. It had been a mistake because he’d let his unease show. Behind him, he heard the doors fall shut and the electric locks click.

Just then, Jae-ha took a few steps towards him, making Kija back into the wall farthest from the bars.

“You know, I really wanted to mind my own business and stay outta yours but when you start conspiring with a mafia boss to sell people into slavery, I really can’t help but get involved.” Jae-ha’s eyes were alight. “So you better start talking, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Kija said, defensive.

“Really now? So, I just imagined that conversation then? My bad,” Jae-ha continued. “And the paper you left for that guard to find? Did I imagine that too?”

Kija backed up all the way to the sink, feeling the cold metal digging into his back.

“You were right,” he said calmly. “You really should have just minded your own business.”

Jae-ha hissed and gripped the collar of Kija’s jumpsuit but the other boy had expected as much so he tore away from his grasp. The two scuffled until Kija lost his balance and slammed against the toilet.

Suddenly, there was a snap and something gave weight beneath him. Kija was falling to the ground until he wasn’t, until he was sitting across a large gap in the wall of their cell, where the toilet had stood moments ago.

For a moment, he thought he’d hit his head too hard but as he peered through the darkness, Kija realised his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Beyond the hole, he could see the faint outline of a network of metal beams and forking tunnels.

Kija was staring at an escape route right outside of his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in case of any mistakes - I'll review the chapter again tomorrow but I really wanted to submit this today, even though I was practically falling asleep while editing this. So, yeah, the chapter is a bit different, more serious I guess, and although it was probably my least favourite to write so far, the plot would have fallen through without it. To be honest though, I've always loved political intrigue and business interests so being able to include those in a fanfiction story is something I've wanted to do for a while.
> 
> I've already begun editing chapters 4 and 5, which have been super fun to write! I can't wait to share them with you guys so stay tuned - I'll be posting chapter 4 on Monday and chapter 5 on Friday! Once again, thank you for reading and see you again next time! :)


	4. Partners in Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading what your thoughts and predictions are!

—Jae-ha—

“What’s going on?” came the angry yell of one of the patrolling guards.

Jae-ha didn’t have time to process the gravity of the situation. He was looking back and forth between the gaping hole in the wall and Kija, who was now staring at him as if he was expecting Jae-ha to confirm that what he was seeing wasn’t some trick of the imagination. Jae-ha certainly wished he could convince him it was but there was no time.

The impact of Kija’s fall had knocked the toilet askew, the scrape of metal against concrete echoing across the empty prison, magnified by the silence. It was all going to start coming down and in that moment, nothing else really mattered. His cellmate’s charges, his conspiracies with Kum-Ji — it was all evaporating like steam upon the thought that the escape plan would be discovered if they didn’t get moving.

They were so screwed. Jae-ha could almost imagine spending the rest of his life in isolation — never seeing the light of day again, as he sat rotting in a cold, dark room. That certainly was not how he’d envisioned his death.

“Saints!” he hissed, reaching down to pull the boy to his feet. “Help me hide this or we’re both done for!”

For a moment, it looked as though Kija would not move but thankfully, he seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he’d been in. Jae-ha almost breathed a sigh of relief as the boy joined his side but it was still much too early to be celebrating. The two of them moved the toilet back in front of the wall but there was no time to screw the bolts so Jae-ha only managed to place them in their spot, as indicated by the rings of rust. If the guard decided to open up the cell and inspect it, they’d truly be done for.

The shuffling of one set of footsteps was growing louder and louder. Any moment now and the guard would be at their cell.

There was an instant during which Jae-ha’s mind was screaming at him that this was all his fault. He should have screwed the bolts in, should’ve, should’ve, and yet he hadn’t. He could only hope the lapse of judgement wouldn’t cost him dearly.

“Move it!” Jae-ha whispered with greater urgency as the two of them hurried to their bunks.

He was just getting in his bunk and Kija was still climbing the ladder when the boy missed a step and gave a sudden yelp. He slithered down, the rubber of his shoe sole squeaking against the metal. It was at the nick of time that Jae-ha managed to catch him. He felt his fingers digging into the boy’s waist and he winced, realising how tightly he had squeezed and that because of the awkward grip he’d probably be leaving bruises.

The sound of footsteps was coming just outside of their cell now and there wasn’t going to be enough time for Kija to climb back without raising suspicion.

So Jae-ha did the only thing he could think of: he dragged Kija down to his own bunk. The two fell back onto the hollowed-out mattress, Kija’s elbows digging uncomfortably into Jae-ha’s stomach. It wasn’t ideal and Jae-ha had no idea what kind of an explanation would get them out of this new situation but it’d have to make do. It would just have to.

Almost as if on cue, the guard emerged in front of their cell, peering inside. “What’s all the commotion about?” 

The boy on top of him remained absolutely silent, so silent in fact that Jae-ha wasn’t certain if his cellmate hadn’t just fainted. He could feel his quickened heartbeat, that much was good, and each thump seemed as if it was his own. Kija’s frantic panic was almost a physical thing and Jae-ha could almost feel it putting pressure on his heart, as though the panic was enveloping him, too. Spurred on by some protective instinct that he didn’t have time to question, Jae-ha squeezed tighter with the arm that was slung across the boy’s waist.

“Commotion?” he asked, tone all sweet, but even he knew his heavy breathing wouldn’t remain unnoticed. “Oh, well, we were playing around and things were just getting good, you see, so can you please let us get some privacy?”

There were whistles from the other cells, followed by shouts of disapproval at the uproar Jae-ha had started. Loud interruptions weren’t appreciated by guards and inmates alike after lights-out.

“Silence!” The guard ran his baton across the bars. “Go back to your bunk, inmate!”

Kija didn’t say anything but he nonetheless scurried to the top bunk at lightning speed. He somehow managed to knock the air out of Jae-ha’s lungs by landing an elbow to his stomach, eliciting a rather unwanted yelp from poor Jae-ha. This time at least, Kija didn’t slip on the ladder. Thankfully.

“If I ever catch you doing that again, I’ll throw both of you in isolation,” the guard warned.

“Together?” Jae-ha just hadn’t been able to help it.

The guard gave the bars another angry whack with his baton but stalked off regardless, leaving the two boys to lay perfectly still in the darkness.

Jae-ha tried to even out his breathing in the newborn silence. A moment stretched into a minute or maybe ten. Neither he nor Kija said anything, the panic which had risen from the situation having not yet completely subsided. The situation had escalated quickly, the possibility of it spiralling out of control still reeling in Jae-ha’s mind. He’d never thought the hole would be discovered so quickly — though it was his own fault for starting the scuffle that had led to it all — and for a moment, he’d thought the boy would sell him out to the guard instead of helping him hide the gap.

In truth, it was still too soon to judge the boy’s motives or even his reaction towards the hole, which posed another question all on its own. Jae-ha knew he’d have to face it soon enough so he took a moment to gather his breath — and his thoughts — before speaking again.

“That was too close for comfort,” he said finally, having caught his breath at last. 

There was a tiny noise of affirmation from the top bunk, and after a moment, a whisper came as well: “Since when have you been digging that?”

“A month,” Jae-ha confessed, trying to speak as quietly as possible. “Give or take.”

The thing about privacy in prison was that you didn’t have any but because secrets were key, every inmate knew how to be discreet when they needed to. It was something you simply had to learn after coming to prison. Secrets were currency where money was almost impossible to obtain and talking secrets in your cell, after lights-out, was a scary business. You had to speak as quietly as possible but not in harsh whispers or else you’d give the inmates in the cells next to yours plenty of reason to listen in.

No, you had to murmur softly, almost as if speaking in someone’s ear once you’re ready to fall asleep but can’t stop yourself from sharing one last bit of tender speech in the language of love. That was how you kept your secrets in prison.

Kija was still learning the ins and outs of secret-keeping but Jae-ha reckoned he was doing a good enough job at keeping their situation away from prying ears.

“Where does it lead to?” the boy asked and Jae-ha felt that it had finally come to the inevitable — the moment he’d dreaded most of all.

Jae-ha sighed, pinning his arms behind his head. “I can show you. Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

He heard Kija shuffle in his bed. “I suppose not.”

Jae-ha honestly didn’t know how his luck had left his side when he’d most needed it but now that it had come to this, he really didn’t have any other options. “So how about a deal — I show you where it leads and you tell me what the hell you’ve been planning with Kum-Ji?”

The boy certainly wasn’t being forced to agree. He could threaten Jae-ha that he’d talk unless the older boy showed him, not that Jae-ha took well to being threatened.

“Deal,” agreed Kija, though with some reluctance.

“Fine then,” Jae-ha whispered back. “We can shake hands later, little fraudster.”

There was a scoff. “Don’t call me that.”

“Cut me some slack this time, alright? I just lost five years of my life from worry.”

He truly felt completely drained now that the adrenaline had subsided. While it was true that he liked taking chances and he lived for a good thrill, a risky heist, this had been cutting it way closer than he would have liked.

After a moment, when he felt Kija begin to shuffle out of bed, Jae-ha hissed at him, “For heaven’s sake, lay back down. We aren’t going in until after the last headcount.”

Honestly, this boy was going to be the death of him. Hadn’t all of his problems started the very day Kija had come into his cell?

As it turned out, waiting for headcount was agony in a way Jae-ha hadn’t quite imagined it would ever be. His mind was reeling back and forth, jumping from thoughts of regret that his carelessness had led to the tunnel’s discovery to thoughts of doubt and worry. What would Kija do once he went in? It was obvious by now that Jae-ha would have to take him along during their escape. But would the boy try to bargain some other favours out of Jae-ha in order to keep his secret? The kid could certainly try, though he would have a very difficult time trying to bargain with Jae-ha.

When after a half-hour the guards had finally inspected and passed their cell, the older boy signalled to Kija by reaching out to slap his arm. He’d honestly done it out of curiosity whether his cellmate would yelp or jump and he was not disappointed by Kija’s reaction. The boy made a sound, though muffled, and jumped up from the bunk. Maybe Jae-ha could find pleasure in annoying the little fraudster — he’d always found the little pleasures in life to be quite enjoyable. 

“Stuff our beds just in case,” Jae-ha instructed as he went to work on moving the toilet to the side.

Kija did as told and rejoined his side once he was done. The two squeezed through the small gap in the wall, with Jae-ha in the lead.

“Pull it back in,” the older boy said, motioning for his cellmate to push the toilet close to its original position, at least in case a guard walked by. The illusion would not hold upon closer inspection but if a guard were to go inside their cell while they were here, it was game over anyway.

When Jae-ha finally turned back around to see if Kija was following him, he could see the boy staring around in awe. The darkness was thick and unyielding but Kija’s eyes were wide, alight from excitement.

“Where are we exactly?” 

“Behind the scenes,” Jae-ha said without offering any further explanation.

The tunnels were shrouded in darkness and their only guide was the faint fluorescent rays of the emergency lights that seeped through the occasional vent or other opening. The ‘backstage’ of the prison, as Jae-ha liked to joke, was a network of intersecting corridors, some of which weren’t tall enough to allow for them to walk unless crouched and others were so narrow that the two boys had to crawl. It was an elaborate connection of metal beams and concrete rows, cables and ventilation systems. Although Jae-ha couldn’t know with absolute certainty, he suspected it had been usable before the prison had been expanded to include the psych ward on the other side.

It was still too dangerous to turn on the flashlight which Jae-ha had exchanged for one of the blades he’d snuck into the prison. Although it hadn’t been a fair exchange and he had absolutely despised the thought of parting with any one of his blades, digging in the dark had not been an option. Jae-ha never used the flashlight while navigating the tunnels for fear of some guard noticing light coming from a vent. 

Jae-ha navigated around the labyrinth with precision — he had come to know the tunnels like the back of his palm by now. The different corridors led to many places within the prison but Jae-ha wanted to show his cellmate one route in particular. Kija followed close behind, though he would stop from time to time to exclaim that they were over the canteen or some other room he recognised.

The route they were taking was a relatively simple one — they went straight unless presented with two pathways, at which point Jae-ha would take a right at the first, right again at the second, and left at the third such crossroad. When they reached the end of their destination, Jae-ha finally felt comfortable turning on the flashlight.

It was a rather tight squeeze with both him and Kija next to each other rather than in a single file but it would have to make do.

“It’s a dead-end,” noted Kija.

Indeed, they had hit a wall but outside that wall was the only way out of Awa State Penitentiary other than the front door. Jae-ha might like dramatic entrances — or in this case, dramatic escapes — but even he was not going to attempt walking out of a prison’s main gates.

“Don’t be so pessimistic, kid,” he opposed. “Somewhere on the other side of this wall is the main drainage pipe to the prison’s old sewer system. Any ideas where it leads to?”

“Freedom?” Kija suggested.

“Bingo,” Jae-ha said proudly. “According to my calculations, the tunnel connects with the ocean and this is the only wall separating us from freedom.”

“Isn’t the ocean going to start flooding in when you break it down?”

“No, the prison was built on a cliff so we’re much higher than the waterline,” Jae-ha explained.

When the crew had gotten themselves locked up in here, Jae-ha had tried his best to study the prison from the outside, to see if there were any weak links in the fences outside. But he’d soon realised there had been something even better — Awa State Penitentiary sat perched on a steep cliff, the vast ocean stretching to the east. The beginnings of an idea had taken root that day and after Jae-ha had dug up articles on the prison’s renovation and the complete restructuring of the existing sewer system, he’d nurtured that idea, seen it grow into a plan.

Then again, finding the wall down the tunnel had been mostly luck and chance — he hadn’t known with certainty whether the two would be directly connected or if he’d have to dig more. But Jae-ha had always liked leaving some things to chance — it made life all the more interesting.

“Have you been digging with this?” Kija asked, examining the small instrument which Jae-ha had traded for seven cigarettes a few weeks back. “I can get you something better.”

“Now you’re actually being helpful,” said Jae-ha playfully. “I knew that pretty head of yours wasn’t just for show.”

His cellmate blushed, though the colour was made less intense by the angle of the sharp shadows coming from the flashlight.

“You still haven’t answered my question, you know,” Jae-ha said tentatively. “Why would you ever want to sell people into slavery?”

“I don’t,” Kija said, suddenly defensive.

The older boy gave him a look as if to ask whether the kid had taken him for an idiot. “It’s all for the money, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” the kid said again. “I’m not striking any deals with Kum-Ji, I’m using him to get to his men on the outside.”

Jae-ha frowned. “To do what, exactly? Earn money through them?”

“No,” the boy argued, exasperated. “To make sure they receive justice for their crimes.”

A sudden laugh bubbled out of Jae-ha, who was unable to stop it.

“Sweetheart, I feel like you’re getting way over your head here. Unless you’ve forgotten, you’re a criminal locked in jail,” he said. “I get it, prison opened your eyes, made you have a change of heart. It happens, just don’t turn it into a redemption crusade.”

“That’s not what this is about at all!”

“Break it down for me, then.”

Kija looked straight at him, his chin jutting out stubbornly. “I am not at liberty to say anything more to you.”

The older boy blinked, feeling himself getting angry again. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? I’m trying to give you a chance to explain yourself and you have the nerve to give me all that bullshit?”

“I have my orders.”

“Look, kid,” Jae-ha said finally. “You have exactly five seconds to convince me why I shouldn’t just march right up to Kum-Ji first thing tomorrow morning and tell him about your plans.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kija said.

“Maybe I would.” He most definitely wouldn’t but the bluff was worth it. “Sure, he won’t believe me but he won’t trust you anymore either. Three seconds.”

“You tell Kum-Ji, I tell the guards about the hole.”

“Go right ahead,” Jae-ha said. “Neither of us will be let out of isolation for a very long time. Last chance.”

His cellmate only stared at him, his eyes big and blue. The expression written across his face was one Jae-ha hadn’t seen on this boy before — there was worry and doubt clouding his features but most of all, there was hesitation.

“Then you’ll be interfering with a government agent’s investigation,” Kija said flatly. “It’s a law offence under the Criminal Justice Act of 1993.”

There was a moment during which Jae-ha just stared at him, feeling the cogs and wheels of his mind spinning in vain, unsure how to understand the new information. At first, it struck him as funny, the whole talk of criminal law seemingly ridiculous coming out of this kid’s mouth. But Kija’s face was so serious that it made Jae-ha back off a bit. He needed to process this but he wasn’t feeling quite ready to connect the dots. Investigation? Some Criminal Justice Act? A government agent — who now?

And then, when it finally dawned on him, it was like a lightning strike splitting clear skies.

“So you’re with the police, is that it?” Jae-ha asked, still feeling shell-shocked. “And I’ve been harassing a cop this entire time?”

Whatever he said seemed to have struck this odd boy as funny because Kija smiled, maybe for the first time since they’d met. “As a matter of fact, I am a detective for the Ministry of Welfare's Public Safety Bureau in Hiryuu.”

“Right, and I’m a pirate for the Flying Jane’s bunch of merry men in Awa,” Jae-ha said. “None of this means anything to me.”

“Perhaps you’ve heard of the Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Department?”

Jae-ha shook his head. “Did I also mention I own a talking parrot that I’ve taught how to sing sea shanties?”

His cellmate frowned. “I’m being serious here, Jae-ha.”

“So am I,” said the poor, confused older boy, peering at Kija incredulously. “I bet I was a pirate in some previous life at the very least.”

The supposed detective seemed to suppress an urge to scowl at Jae-ha because he looked like he was fighting hard against it.

When Kija finally started talking, poor Jae-ha listened and listened, though not quite prepared to believe what he was hearing. When he’d woken up that morning, he hadn’t expected he’d have the escape plan discovered, a guard on his tail, and his cellmate tell him he was an undercover detective for some government organisation. What was the world coming to?

By the sound of it, Kija was here to extract information from Yang Kum-Ji on the matter of his contacts on the outside and the details of his operating businesses. The boy had seemed hesitant, still, while telling Jae-ha all of this and the older man realised his situation for the first time. An undercover agent sharing this intel with an inmate, one who’d just shoved him up a wall and threatened to shut down a government operation, wasn’t exactly an easy choice, was it?

“Is your real name Kija?” Jae-ha asked after the boy had finished, surprising himself that this was the only question on his mind at a time like this.

“It is,” the boy said with a small smile.

“So, Detective Kija, what you’re telling me is that this Bureau’s great plan is to trick Kum-Ji into revealing every bastard who’s ever worked for him, is that it?”

He hadn’t intended for it to come off sounding as though he was dissing the government’s carefully devised plan but Jae-ha had his reasons to be wary of the competency of this country’s forces.

“And your plan rests on finding an old sewer that may or may not lead to the ocean,” said Kija. “Do not pretend as though yours is any better.”

Jae-ha had to give it to him — those were pretty much the barebones of his entire plan. “Touché.”

They took a moment to study each other — the criminal and the detective. The universe must have been waiting to pull this joke on Jae-ha in revenge for all the tricks he’d mastered and all the cons he’d managed to outsmart. The irony wasn’t lost on him and he was sure that one day, he’d tell the story to his friends to get a good laugh out of them: “Did I tell you about the time I got a cellmate who turned out to be an undercover detective? No? Well, funny story, I made him my enemy the very first night, harassed him, threw him against a wall, and then on top of it all, I showed him my escape plan.” Somewhere out there, karma was stifling a laugh.

It almost seemed like a weird dream, some deformity of a reality which he would wake up from, only to find himself in his cell. Should he try to pinch himself?

“I need your word that this stays between us,” Kija said and his eyes were so impossibly blue that Jae-ha was almost certain it was indeed a dream. “I apologise if we started on the wrong foot but I know you despise Kum-Ji at least as much as I do and I’m here to take him down once and for all. We’re fighting the same battle, Jae-ha.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going to sort out this mess. I truly am,” Jae-ha began. “But where was your Bureau when we tipped off the police about Kum-Ji months ago? Where were you guys when the raid went south and my men were captured instead?”

If the police had done their job correctly, Jae-ha’s men wouldn’t be stuck in prison in the first place. It had all happened two months ago but the wound was still fresh — the bitterness of knowing even the police were incompetent in the face of Kum-Ji hadn’t quite washed off. After Jae-ha and his crew had tipped off the local PD, the forces had raided Kum-Ji’s trade deal and captured him, along with only four other men. The raid had then taken an unexpected turn, however, and Jae-ha’s crew had been captured under assumptions they’d been assisting the trade. It had been cruel and unfair, and Jae-ha had even thought it'd been some sick nightmare. He hoped the Bureau was at least a bit more competent than the forces here at Awa or this country may as well truly be doomed.

Kija looked like he was going on the defensive again. “We were never given any information regarding the tip. The forces here must have decided to operate on their own but if we had interfered, matters would have been different.”

“Well, if you had interfered, then maybe my men wouldn’t be here under false charges of assisting in the trade and I wouldn’t have to get thrown in here to bust them out,” said Jae-ha a little too hurriedly.

Kija looked like he was about to say something but Jae-ha just looked at him with a challenge in his eyes.

“If you’re about to recite some codex or sell me out to the guards, go right ahead,” he said. “But you can’t possibly expect me to sit around and watch my friends serve for crimes they’ve fought against.”

“I wasn’t going to,” the boy said calmly.

“Then what?”

“I respect your loyalty.” Kija smiled. “And I understand what you’re trying to protect. As long as you’re fighting for principles I too believe in, I won’t try to stop you.”

With a jolt of surprise and sudden warmth, Jae-ha realised he hadn’t given this boy nearly enough credit. When he’d first seen him, he’d only taken note of his looks. When he’d found out of his charges, he’d judged him for crimes he hadn’t even committed. And when he’d heard him conspiring with Kum-Ji, he’d seen him as an opportunity to exact revenge. Perhaps Jae-ha was a bigger hypocrite than he’d feared himself to be?

“I want to help the people of Awa,” Jae-ha said finally but he felt that it wasn’t enough. “Scratch that, I want to help this country’s people. My crew and I, we might not be much but we do what the police can’t, or doesn’t. All I’ve ever wanted was to see the people free from cons like Kum-Ji.”

Jae-ha had never expected words of gratitude or a pat on the back — he did what he did because he believed in it, not because he wanted someone to thank him for it. Sure, the girls flocking at his side weren’t a bad touch but it wasn’t what he was in for. Deep down, Jae-ha knew he wasn’t a good guy — he stole and he’d even ended men’s lives. He wasn’t doing this to redeem himself.

The simple truth was that this life was the only one he’d ever known how to lead — he wasn’t cut out for a normal nine-to-five job and beer with friends while watching the game on someone’s TV. Bringing down people like Kum-Ji was the only kind of life that could give him a sense of purpose.

“So let me help you,” Jae-ha continued. “You want to bring down Kum-Ji once and for all? I want to help make that happen, the same goes for my crew.”

Kija considered him for a moment. “Okay, Jae-ha. Let’s do this together then.”

It was unsettling how Jae-ha couldn’t _not_ stare into the boy’s eyes, couldn’t _not_ look at Kija, who was now staring back. It was as if he was seeing him for the first time. And in a way, he was — he was finally seeing him for who he really was. Although he didn’t believe in titles, Jae-ha wanted to believe this boy was capable of setting things right.

“Once this is all over, I’m still breaking out of here,” he said, almost as a reminder to himself.

“I know.”

Jae-ha gave the boy his most convincing smile yet. “Just thought I should clarify so we’re both on the same page.”

For the two of them to be seeing eye-to-eye — that was one thing Jae-ha hadn’t quite expected to happen after the disastrous chain of events which had led to this conversation. And yet, here they were.

“You make it sound so easy,” Kija told him. “Breaking out, I mean.”

It was working so far, wasn’t it?

“You do realise you’re standing a mere wall away from freedom, right?”

“In all honesty, I never thought there’d be anything like this right on the other side of our cell,” Kija confessed, looking around in unmasked astonishment.

“So all it takes to impress you is some dusty old tunnel, huh?” Jae-ha laughed. “And here I was, trying so hard.”

Kija didn’t reply, the pink colour which seemed to suit him so well rising to his cheeks again.

With no way to tell the time precisely, the two decided to start making their way back to the cell. Judging from how long their conversation had gone, it must have been at least a couple of hours and Jae-ha feared there wouldn’t be any time left to catch some sleep before the morning buzzer.

As they headed back, Kija seemed more talkative, as opposed to Jae-ha, who was fighting back sleep. The boy kept asking questions about where they were, if this led to that, and so forth, leaving little opportunity for his poor cellmate to get a break. Jae-ha would pause whenever they’d reach a crossroads and explain where each path led to and how to tell them apart.

“Over there,” Jae-ha said, gesturing to a path with a vent shaft at its end, “is where the ventilation at Kum-Ji’s meeting room is.”

“Is that how you managed to listen in on our conversation?” Kija asked behind him.

“My, my, detective, you are awfully perceptive,” the older boy teased him, not even having to turn around to know that his cellmate was blushing at the ridicule.

Kija pointedly ignored the comment. “If you can hear and see into Kum-Ji’s room, then you probably have sensitive intel on him, don’t you?”

“You’re on a roll, detective,” he mocked. “I certainly feel better knowing you’re here to uncover Kum-Ji’s preferred brand of tobacco.”

Jae-ha couldn’t have helped himself even if he had tried, which he most definitely had not.

“Forget it,” his cellmate said, with what the older boy suspected was a slight pout in his tone.

“Alright, alright,” Jae-ha surrendered. “Yes, I’ve listened in on his deals but I’m afraid what I know’s not going to be of much use unless you find me a pen and paper to take notes next time.”

“That can be arranged,” Kija said and when Jae-ha stopped to turn back and look at him, he added, “I have a guard on the inside.”

The older boy scoffed. “Should have known.”

By the time the two of them returned to their cell, it felt like an eternity had passed. They weren’t the two boys on the verge of a scuffle who’d entered the tunnels earlier that evening, they weren’t total strangers anymore either. It felt somewhat impossible but now they were partners-in-crime — or partners-in-law if Jae-ha had to be particular about it.

As the two called it a night, each taking his own bunk, Jae-ha thought luck might be on his side after all.

“Hey, Kija,” he said, peering at the bottom of the other boy’s bunk through half-lidded eyes. “I’m glad you turned out to be a decent person.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

But Jae-ha was already drifting into sleep, thinking back on that day almost one week ago, when he’d seen an angel in his cell and thought isolation might have broken him somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, I didn't even notice when I hit 5K words on this chapter, though that must have been in large due to the fact that I enjoyed writing it so much. I'm even posting a few hours before it's officially Monday so hurray! To be honest with you all, I really feel much better now that our two boys are starting to get along — I didn't enjoy writing a grumpy Jae-ha or a lying Kija in the past chapters mostly because I was stressing out about whether they would end up sounding out of character or not so at least that's over with, haha. The cogs of the Bureau's plan against Kum-Ji have started spinning and we'll be seeing what's the situation with Kum-Ji's preliminary task very soon.
> 
> I'll upload the next chapter on Friday, as promised; I won't spoil the surprise but to give you guys a little somethin'-somethin' I'm just going to say that we're going to have a wee character cameo. That's it from me for now. Thank you for reading and stay tuned for Chapter 5! :)


	5. A Crash-Course in Criminology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading what your thoughts and predictions are!

—Kija—

When Kija had been a little boy, not even eight years old, he’d chipped one of his father’s awards. It had been a large, heavy star made of brass, with a label underneath it that expressed gratitude for ten years of brave service at the local police station, and his father had treasured it dearly.

Kija had been playing around the house again — despite his grandmother’s warnings and his mother’s pleas. Perhaps he’d thought that if he snuck in his father’s office and was careful enough, he’d get away with it. But, as these things usually turned out, he’d gotten carried away, having lost control over the last throw of the baseball. One of the bookshelves had collapsed and his dad’s precious award had tumbled down. Kija had stared at it for the longest of moments, filled with horror, and when he’d finally gone to pick it back up, his blood had ran cold. As soon as he’d seen the deep scratches across the metal surface, he’d known his father would never forgive him. 

Although he’d set the shelf upright and the award back in its original position, Kija had begun living in constant panic that his dad would see it and punish him again — and just like every other time, Kija would have deserved it for bringing more trouble to the family. That was all he did anyway, wasn’t it? Was he really cursed with bringing misfortune to those around him?

The boy hadn’t been able to sleep for days after that. Whenever his father had been in the house, Kija had tiptoed about, as if walking on eggshells. He’d held his breath in his throat and hadn’t even dared look his father in the eye.

Serving time in Awa State Penitentiary, with the pressure of his mission’s success and now the added weight of his cellmate’s secret, felt like that, only worse. It was an odd sense of deja-vu, being reminded of that particular memory in a prison, of all places, but the feeling was there and it persisted to haunt him, as though its waves were trying to bring him under, drown him. There were times when Kija feared breathing would trigger an explosion. Other times, the air in his lungs would seize without warning altogether. 

“Let me help you,” his cellmate had said and Kija had been unable to deny him — not after catching his first glimpses of the real Jae-ha, the one whose eyes apparently always burned with fire and excitement, and hope.

In that moment, Kija hadn’t hesitated for more than a moment, even though he’d been painfully aware that trusting his cellmate would be a gamble, perhaps one that wouldn’t pay off even. Hak’s voice had rung out in his head, “Don’t trust anybody”, and yet he’d gone and told everything to a man who had no affiliation with the law and even less desire to abide it. 

“Let’s do this together then,” Kija had promised, sealing his fate — for better or for worse, only time would tell. Maybe he’d be regretting his decision soon; he wouldn’t know until it was too late.

Even from the start, Kija had never worried about himself. He’d had other priorities — the integrity of his cover, Kum-Ji’s trust, the success of the mission. Now, he was somewhat responsible for six inmates and their break-out plan. Kija certainly hadn’t been forced into helping, as long as he wasn’t interfering with his cellmate’s agenda, but he’d felt responsible for those people’s fate in a way that transcended his orders and found roots in his own moral beliefs. Perhaps Kija was atoning for all the times he’d never seen criminals as men worthy of his sympathy or his help — some of the men he’d captured may have found a way to turn their lives around if he hadn’t sent them to maximum security prisons where they would only find darkness and hate. Or perhaps he simply felt responsible on behalf of Awa PD’s mistakes, wishing to set matters right.

After that night when the two cellmates had revealed their cards to one another, Kija had woken up wondering whether he hadn’t dreamt it all. The two cellmates had peered at each other in the morning, oddly silent, as though trying to determine whether the other had had the same crazy dream too.

“So it did happen,” Jae-ha had deducted with a sigh.

Kija had only nodded. “That it did.”

And so had their unlikely alliance begun, a combined effort between a detective and a criminal. Kija had gotten agent Shin-ah to supply them with the proper instruments for digging, though he hadn’t filled him in on why exactly he would be needing them. He’d also had Jae-ha bug Kum-Ji’s room, allowing for the Bureau to listen into his conversations. Although Kija had to admit that the two of them made an odd pair, he was nevertheless enjoying the new sense of comfort in knowing someone else had his back in this prison.

When Kija had insisted on dividing the work on the tunnel in two shifts, his cellmate had looked at him with what Kija suspected might have been disbelief.

“You’re not planning on helping me take down the wall, are you?”

“That was what I was suggesting, yes.”

“My, my,” his cellmate had grinned then. “Are you saying that you prefer a criminal’s ploy over your own organisation’s extraction plan, Mr Government Agent?”

“No,” Kija had said simply. “But I consider it a fair exchange. My help for yours.”

Jae-ha had continued staring at him, though he’d looked more amused than anything else. “Keeping the tunnel a secret is good enough for me.”

Was it? Kija didn’t think it was, not when Jae-ha was out digging the tunnel on his own and Kija simply lay in the comfort (though the meaning of the term was debatable) of his bunk. Kija had seen the rings of dark circles underneath Jae-ha’s eyes — his cellmate must have been digging every night, with his sleep limited to no more than two-three hours at best. He’d heard the other boy’s story about why he’d gotten himself locked up in here. Criminal or not, Jae-ha had promised his help and Kija was not the kind of man to give nothing back. His grandmother had raised him better than that.

In the end, Kija’s own principles had won the battle over the rational part of him which had been hell-bent on reminding him of all the Acts and codex entries he’d be breaking.

“It’s not good enough for me,” he’d said. "We shall take turns working on the wall."

The older boy had raised his brows at him. “And are you sure you can handle the heavy labour, darling?”

But as it turned out, just one rather forceful swing with the hammer had been enough to prove Kija could. The action had promptly shut Jae-ha up, much to the detective’s relief.

During the day, Kija devised plans with Kum-Ji and his men, conversing on matters of nadai and human trafficking. During the night, he and Jae-ha took turns digging the crew’s escape.

Now that they were finally seeing eye to eye, Kija seemed to notice Jae-ha more than he had before. Or notice him in different ways, at least. Sympathise with him, even. Kija would never admit it but knowing that Jae-ha was on his side had lifted a weight off his shoulders. The prison was cold and bleak, its convicts sending shivers down his spine, but whenever he went back to his cell to find Jae-ha already there, Kija felt some semblance of peace. There was comfort in his cellmate’s smile that he hadn’t quite felt before; there was reassurance in the other boy’s words that put Kija’s mind at ease. He no longer felt alone — and he had never quite known what not being alone felt like.

“Rise and shine, little Sherlock,” Jae-ha would say in the mornings, all bright smiles and little teases. “Time to catch some big bad criminals.”

And Kija would just frown, spurring on the other boy even further. “Stop calling me that.”

“But then I wouldn’t be your Watson,” Jae-ha would answer in return, smiling brighter. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Kija wasn’t certain what was happening to him but he hadn’t quite realised when exactly he’d started looking forward to the genuine smiles and deflating at the fake ones. 

Today, the intercom announced Kija had a visitor. The detective wasn’t expecting anybody but when one of the guards said his girlfriend was waiting for him, Kija realised that agent Yona must have come to the Penitentiary undercover as a civilian. Shaking off his momentary confusion, Kija almost laughed at the image of Hak’s frown.

Upon leaving the cell, he bid goodbye to Jae-ha, who gave him a tight-lipped smile — one which Kija immediately realised was fake. He placed the issue aside for the time being, logging it for later reference.

When he stepped into the visitation room, Kija found Yona sitting there in civilian clothing — a creme-yellow summer dress and sunglasses. He found it to be an oddly refreshing sight compared to the bleak prisoner interior and uniforms. His only sources of real colour had become the emerald sheen of Jae-ha’s hair and the blue-tinted violet in the man’s eyes — it felt out of place seeing Yona’s flaming hair at a place like this.

“Kija!” Yona exclaimed when she saw him. She gave him a tight hug and when they had both sat down, said, “How are you?”

“Fairly normal considering the circumstances,” the boy confessed. “The mission is going well—“

“I’m not talking business, Kija. I’m asking about you,” she interrupted him, her eyes big and bright, as though she was trying to peek into his thoughts and glean at his state of well-being.

It had been only a few days over a week since he’d come to Awa State Penitentiary but it felt like Kija was seeing Yona for the first time in months. He’d almost forgotten to miss her, what with all that had happened, but now that she was sitting in front of him, he realised just how dearly he wished they won’t have to be separated after the visitation ended.

Kija smiled nonetheless, glad to see her. “I’m doing well. Truly.”

“How are the other prisoners treating you?” Yona asked. “Have there been any problems?”

“Not really, no.” Kija wasn’t going to tell her about Hiyou — partly because he needn’t worry her any more than him being here already did and also because Jae-ha had taken care of the situation for him, though rather unceremoniously. “On the contrary, I have found some interesting people that are making my stay here quite bearable.”

“Really?” Yona asked, skeptical. “You mean, other prisoners?”

“It is a long story but yes, prisoners. Not all of them are the despicable men I imagined them to be, though there are certainly many of those, too.”

Yona looked at him for a long moment before giving him a warm smile. “You’ve changed a bit. I don’t think I would have ever expected you to say something like that.”

“I’ve had reason to reconsider,” Kija said simply.

Perhaps prison had changed Kija’s previously unyielding view on crime — after all, he had felt the panic and fear and misery which prisoners felt; he’d realised he wasn’t any different than them as far as basic human instincts went. Perhaps it had been Jae-ha who had helped show him that not everything was black and white, and that grey was a vast field of exceptions. Or perhaps Kija simply didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, that Jae-ha was the one giving him all the reasons to reconsider his position.

Kija felt himself needing to change topics: “How are the others doing?”

Mercifully, Yona was happy to go on a tangent about life at the Bureau. She described to him, in vivid detail, a particularly competitive karaoke match between Hak and Soo-Won, which Kija could imagine had occurred only after a fair amount of alcohol in Hak’s system. The boy almost wished he’d been there to watch the other agent’s sour expression the day after — he hoped they had recorded the match for evidence.

It seemed Zeno missed him and Yoon was worrying whether he was being fed properly — which Kija assured Yona that he was. Even Captain Joo-Doh and Chief Mun-Dok had inquired about Kija’s wellbeing, which flattered him more than he’d ever admit — after all, both of his superiors were agents of outstanding calibre. Apparently, his granny had also called but since she hadn’t been informed about the mission and had instead been told that Kija was on a work trip to Awa, she’d only wished to remind him to use brand-name sunscreen instead of generic…

Hearing about life on the outside reminded Kija of a world which seemed to be situated about as far away as the other side of the universe. He missed his co-workers at the Bureau — they were his friends, his closest and most trusted people, after all. His first week at prison had been chaotic enough to ensure his mind didn’t lurk in the dark corners of nostalgia but in the hours between lights-out and the morning buzzer, there was simply too much time. It was almost as if it was intended to leave prisoners to their own thoughts, to help steer their mind to regret and repentance. Kija’s mind would usually travel to the Bureau and he’d imagine himself out on the field, and then he’d dream of running free under the sun, no concrete walls in sight.

If agent Yona had noticed his expression change, she didn’t hint at it.

With only ten more minutes until visitation was over, they steered the topic back to Kum-Ji. After accepting the mafia lord’s test, Kija had left it in the team’s hands to devise the perfect strategy of tracking down the nadai drug’s roots and distribution channels all the way from Kai to Kouka and now to Sei. He suspected that Soo-Won, Yoon, and Zeno had agreed to mark the drug for tracking and let it trickle down the channels. Kija had suggested in his notes that they use the nadai as bait but he could see Soo-Won’s hand in adapting the plan to net them most, if not all, of the involved traders, whom they’d later take into custody once all information had been extracted from Kum-Ji. Agent Yoon and Zeno would undoubtedly be invaluable in creating the database and algorithm for the men’s capture.

Kija almost wished he’d been there to see them work out the plan: it was a textbook-perfect example of a honeycomb operation with a streak of improvised genius from the agents’ side.

“The nadai reached Kum-Ji’s men in Sei earlier this morning so you should be able to proceed with the next part of the plan now,” Yona said as she caught him up to speed with their work.

That was indeed good news. With this, he’d have won enough of Kum-Ji’s trust to begin work on the trafficking deal, though it was also an added bonus that they would be able to take down the nadai distributors too. Kija was one step closer to gaining access to the traffickers’ details and once he did, his mission here would be over. There was also the matter of tracking down Kum-Ji’s money, true, but he suspected Soo-Won would have dealt with that by now, considering they must have already traced the nadai profits back to the mafia lord’s main business.

“I’d better hurry in that case,” he said. “The sooner I extract the necessary information the faster we can place those men into custody. I don’t want anyone getting hurt while we wait for Kum-Ji.”

“I know,” Yona agreed, offering a reassuring squeeze to his hand. “It would likely take another week before they start selling nadai on the street so we’ll be able to proceed before anyone gets hurt.”

Kija smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“There is more,” Yona said, her voice dropping lower. 

Almost immediately, Kija realised that there was something wrong — the first lesson he’d learned as a detective was that where there were good news, bad ones followed behind. He’d known agent Yona long enough to tell she was worried without her having to say so explicitly. Her spine was as straight as an arrow at this point and she was sitting so close to the edge of the seat that Kija knew she was barely stopping herself from pacing.

“What is it?”

“We—I mean, Soo-Won," Yona began, looking over her shoulder at the guard who was supervising the visitation centre, "he hasn’t been able to track down where the profits are going to.”

The detective frowned. “What do you mean? He traced the outgoing payments of the associates’ accounts, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but the money is absolutely untraceable,” Yona said, eyebrows furrowed. “No matter how deep we dive, the money gets lost down the chain of shell corporations and we can’t track it. Kum-Ji’s got dozens of empty companies and none of them ever lead back to his actual account.”

“Soo-Won’s handled laundering schemes before.”

“I know. But this nothing like what we expected,” she confessed. “He’s never seen one so complex before.”

A voice at the back of Kija’s mind told him that now was the moment to start growing nervous. It told him that if Soo-Won couldn’t do it, nobody could.

“Have you consulted Ogi on this?” Kija asked, hopeful.

“He says that it would take months to find the money.”

Kija felt beads of cold sweat trickle down his spine. “If we don’t find where the money is, there’s always going to be someone to take Kum-Ji’s place.”

Agent Yona nodded solemnly. “That’s what Soo-Won thinks as well.”

“Is there anything I can do from here?”

“We’re not sure yet,” she said. “Soo-Won suggests you stick to the original plan and focus on obtaining intel on the traffickers. We will continue working on the scheme for now but Chief Mun-Dok is doubtful.”

The buzzer sounded, marking the end of the last visitation for the day, and Kija felt the pressure of needing to know more and yet not wanting to know anything at all. If the Chief himself had doubts about the chance of success they had in cracking the laundering scheme, then what were they to do? Hadn't Soo-Won worked it out? Hadn't Hak thought of something to try? And more pressingly, why was Kija's mind blanking out when it should be at its sharpest?

“What does the Chief think?” Kija asked in a whisper as the two agents shared another tight hug.

“He suspects Kum-Ji will find out someone’s been investigating his shell companies and make the connection back to you. When that happens, it will be too dangerous for you to stay here.”

Kija's priorities had always been with the mission rather than his safety, so he said, “It's alright, let me worry about that.”

“No, it’s not alright,” she rebutted. “Kija, if we don’t crack the scheme, Chief Mun-Dok has given us orders to pull you out.”

The boy felt the blood retreat from his limbs and surge to his heart. To pull him out now, in the middle of the investigation? That would mean losing Kum-Ji completely. Hadn't they already worked tirelessly to prepare for this? If Kija was pulled out of Awa State Penitentiary now, who knew when the Bureau would have a better chance at bringing the mafia lord down. Instead, there'd be more cons involved, more people to find and capture, more variables to deal with, more complex schemes to crack.

“No, you can’t pull me out right now," Kija said with rising urgency, his tone now attracting the attention of the guard, "not before we get the names of the traffickers.”

Agent Yona looked at him like she, too, was feeling at a loss of options. “It’s the Chief’s orders, Kija.”

The guard stepped forward to take him away and Kija cast one last look at the agent. His mind was racing and his heart had clenched onto itself by the time Kija returned to the prison. He forced his feet to move but it was as though the world was submerged and he was treading through water. The tell-tale signs of an upcoming panic attack were on his heels — familiar like old friends. All the shouts and yells and chatter of the prison were draining away, suddenly just background noise, and the only thing he could hear clearly was the uneven beating of his heart.

As Kija made his way through the canteen, he saw Kum-Ji nod at him. So he’d heard. Was he congratulating him for a job well done perhaps? Was he smiling to himself for finding another pawn to work under him?

Kija willed himself to move forward or he wouldn’t move at all. No one frisked him on the way out into the hallway, no way stood in his way as he entered the yard.

He had a very bad feeling. Even with the traffickers all into custody and Kum-Ji serving in a maximum security prison until the end of his days, the money would still be out there, feeding other illegal businesses and other traffickers like him. If you wanted a weed to stop growing, you needed to tear out its roots, not trim it. If they didn’t find the source of the money now, then, two-three years from now, they’d have new mafia lords pulling even more intricate cobwebs of illegal deals and complex laundering schemes. This needed to end with Kum-Ji.

Was there anything he could do from inside the prison? Bargain with him? 

Suddenly, Kija felt a hand on his wrist and he was pulled into the shadows of one of the PI barracks. His heart would have burst had he not been sane enough to recognise Jae-ha by the emerald sheen of his hair against the sun.

“Do you even realise how easy a target you are right now?” Jae-ha was saying. “You’re practically begging to get yourself shanked and people here are just waiting for an opportunity like that.”

Kija hadn’t. He’d been too preoccupied trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry.”

The older boy sighed. “Look, you need to pull yourself together. Think you can do that?”

He nodded, though with some reluctance, which didn’t escape his cellmate’s notice, it seemed. “What the hell happened in there?” Jae-ha asked.

In an attempt to gather a better sense of his surroundings, Kija looked around. They were lodged in the space between two barracks and although not quite out in the open, they were currently risking being seen exchanging secrets in the shadows of the barracks.

Kija shook his head. “Not here.”

His cellmate nodded and after looking around to make sure the guards weren’t looking their way, dragged Kija into one of the shacks. They were in luck, with the door unlocked and no PI inmates working inside. In fact, the shack was dark, save for the weak rays of light streaming from a small bulb that must have been left lit. The room was mostly empty, with whatever equipment had been stored here currently being used by the PI inmates outside. It wasn’t an ideal place to talk, especially not about sensitive information, but it would just have to make do.

“Do you mind explaining to me how meeting your girlfriend suddenly led to a midlife crisis?” Jae-ha hissed. “Did she dump you or something?”

“I was meeting an agent,” Kija said, defensive. “We seem to have a problem.”

“Darling, you’ve brought me nothing but problems since the day you came here and yet we’re very much alive. It can’t be that bad.”

First of all, Kija reckoned that wasn’t true at all and second of all, the magnitude of this problem was particularly greater than any of the ones that had come before it.

“My agents can’t crack Kum-Ji’s laundering scheme,” Kija said.

Jae-ha blinked. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“You’re not making this any better.”

The older boy held up his hands in the air. “Since when do you prefer I lie to you?” 

Kija didn’t but desperate times called for some rather desperate measures.

“Look, I’m not an expert on money-laundering,” Jae-ha said, “but I’d bet it’s not something a good old wallet pat won’t help us with.”

“A wallet pat?”

“You've never heard of the old wallet pat? Oh, angel, you’d make one horrible thief, so let me impart some criminal wisdom to you.” Jae-ha clapped his hands together almost theatrically. “Let’s say our mark has just received his salary for the month; he’s rushing home to celebrate with a beer or two, watch the game, whatever your average Joe does. You’re out to steal his wallet. What do you do first?”

“I would never do something like that in the first place!”

Jae-ha shot him a look. “Humour me,” he said and then continued on to answer his own question anyway, “You wait for him to pat his wallet.”

The boy frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“The mark knows he’s got more money than he’s used to carrying, so he keeps patting his wallet, making sure it’s there. He’s probably congratulating himself on just how cautious he’s being. Of course, every time he pats his pocket, what’s he doing? He’s letting every thief in the area know exactly where he keeps that precious wallet of his.”

What an immoral lesson, Kija reckoned. “I thought you didn’t steal from innocent people,” the boy said with disapproval in his tone.

“Honey, it’s an example.” Jae-ha sighed. “Would it hurt you to take it as an educational exercise?”

Kija could indeed see where his cellmate was going with this. He wouldn’t admit to Jae-ha that he himself, a detective of all people, had likely patted his wallet too many times to count. What was more, he certainly didn’t want to be subject to the other boy’s ridicule any more than he already was.

“And so we wait for Kum-Ji to check his money?”

“You’re a fast learner, I see,” Jae-ha said with a smirk. “The nadai deal, has it gone through?”

“Yes, Kum-Ji must have received money from the Sei merchants already.”

“Perfect, then he’d be checking to see if the profits have gone back to him, to see if you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“But if Kum-Ji’s in prison,” Kija said, “then he must have someone on the outside who must be checking for him.”

Jae-ha smiled as though he were a proud teacher with their pupil, not a criminal revealing tricks of the trade to a detective. “Find the messenger and you’ve got yourself access to all of Kum-Ji's accounts.”

Could they do it? If they could find information on Kum-Ji's man — a location, a name, a telephone number even, — would it be enough to trace the money? The Bureau certainly had their ways with extracting information like that, Hak would either make the man talk or Zeno could hack his computer and find Kum-Ji's money himself. Kija was silent for a moment as he mulled it over.

“It’s worth trying,” he said finally.

“What, don't tell me you ever doubted my methods?”

Had he? Did he still? “More importantly, how do we find the messenger?”

They were crouching so close to one another at this point, whispering feverishly. Kija was trying not to think how close they were and how interesting Jae-ha looked in that moment, with the fire in his eyes and the dazzling, genuine smile. It was almost addictive, the violet flames in his gaze pulling him in until he was completely hooked and had utterly surrendered himself over.

“I have a plan,” Jae-ha said. “But I have a feeling you’re not going to like it one bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jae-ha, why are you corrupting our innocent child with your criminal ways?? I still love the irony though, haha.
> 
> As a side note, profits from a complex money-laundering scheme like that would take a much longer time to arrive in the person's account but for the purposes of a fanfiction story that was originally going to be seven chapters long, I think it works. Really going out of my comfort zone with some parts of this one, so I hope it turned out to be enjoyable.
> 
> So, with this, we're entering a trio of chapters (Ch 6, 7, and 8) which I have been looking forward to editing since the beginning of the fic essentially. I'll be uploading once a week for these as I have a few uni projects I need to look into as well. Stay tuned for Chapter 6 (coming Thursday next week)! :)


	6. The Red Ledger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for keeping up with the story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading about your thoughts and predictions!

—Jae-ha—

There it was — that familiar look of horror and hesitation which crossed the detective’s face whenever Jae-ha suggested anything even remotely morally ambiguous. The older boy had guessed correctly when he’d assumed his cellmate wasn’t going to like his plan. Then again, when the alternative was doing nothing at all, maybe even this poster-boy of an agent would make an exception. Or so Jae-ha hoped.

“Kum-Ji has a safe in his meeting room?” Kija asked, dubious. “And you want to break it open? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Admittedly, Jae-ha had never specified it was a solid plan — or a good one, for that matter, though it was still better than nothing.

He nodded slowly. “Kum-Ji keeps a personal phone in the safe. I’ve seen him use it to communicate messages to his men before.”

“So he never calls them?” Kija mused aloud and when Jae-ha shook his head, added, “Then they must be exchanging coded messages. It means everything must be on his phone — even if he deletes the messages, the raw data is still saved.”

They had strategically changed their hiding spot, pressed by fear of being seen or worse, heard, and were now stationed as far away from the court and the rest of the inmates as possible without raising anybody’s suspicions. The two had picked up shovels from the PI sheds and were clearing up the concrete walkway from all the sand that had been blown in yesterday. Jae-ha had stolen two PI-duty wristbands (though Kija insisted they had only ‘borrowed’ them — it made little difference to Jae-ha), and he instructed his cellmate that they wear them as a precaution in the case that any guards were to walk past.

The morning rays had started to grow intense, vicious even, as the sun continued its ascent. In a few hours, the sand would become too hot to step on and the concrete would burn their feet even with shoes on. The unbearable heat was one thing in particular Jae-ha had despised about Awa State Penitentiary — amongst many others, of course.

“I’d bet my talking parrot that if we download the data from that phone, your agents can track down the messenger.”

“You don’t have a talking parrot,” Kija replied.

“Potayto-potahto, that’s an insignificant detail but my point still stands,” he said, waving his hand as if to cast the thought away. “Is my talking parrot genuinely the only part you decided to address?”

“Right, point taken.” Kija cast a heap of sand to the side, shaking his head. “How come the guards let Kum-Ji keep a safe in that room? Or a phone for that matter?”

Jae-ha chuckled. “He pays them enough. Besides, the safe isn’t really the problem here.”

“How is it not the problem?”

“Because it’s a model I’ve cracked before,” the older boy said simply.

Of course, Jae-ha had already known about the safe — he’d known for weeks. He’d even descended from the vent one night and tried to break it open but he’d immediately realised it wasn’t one of the old safes with a lock that you could pick given little to no tools. At the very least, he’d found out the model, the year it had been made in, how many dials it had, all its intricacies and little oddities. It wasn’t the most secure safe he’d ever seen, far from it, but he’d need his tools. And in prison, where would he even get those tools from? Now he had an answer to that question.

Jae-ha almost laughed at the odd workings of life. He hadn’t thought, not in his wildest dreams, that he’d be asking a government agent to smuggle safe-cracking tools into prison for him but here he was, about to ask just that.

Kija looked at him as though he was some kind of extraterrestrial. “So you’re telling me you’ve opened safes before?”

“Who do you take me for exactly?” Jae-ha asked, slightly taken aback by the question. “Of course I have! I’ve got a reputation to uphold, darling.”

Safe-cracking wasn’t something he did often by any means but it was how he had begun his career as a professional criminal, if such a title even existed. It had also been the skill that the crew’s boss, Gi-gan, had taken him in for, though he’d quickly picked up other skills along the way and had become a better thief than a safe-cracker. One could argue that the two were one and the same, he supposed.

“I can’t let you do that,” Kija said and the older boy rolled his eyes. “It’s technically illegal.”

“Really now? I certainly wasn’t made aware.” His cellmate was just begging for his sarcasm at this point, wasn’t he? “Digging my escape out of prison is also illegal but you don’t seem to have a problem with that.”

“What if I break open the safe instead?” Kija suggested.

After a moment of silence, Jae-ha burst out laughing.

“I’m being serious, Jae-ha!”

“You know what, I’d like to see just how much a detective knows about breaking open a safe,” the older boy said, still cracking up at the thought of this pretty little angel fiddling with a safe. “Can you even pick a normal lock?”

His cellmate was turning a particularly vibrant shade of pink. “I can learn.”

“Sure! And I can learn to lead an honest life.”

Kija stepped closer, his duties of shovelling the sand all but abandoned at this point. “You can teach me, can’t you?”

“I’m not teaching a government agent how to break open a safe,” Jae-ha said, though he was debating whether or not to entertain the idea just for his own amusement. “Besides, this model’s not easy to start with if you’ve got no experience. You could waste a whole day and still be nowhere near opening it. It would even take me a good half-hour.”

“But I—”

“You,” Jae-ha said with a grin, “are not the master thief here, little detective. I am. I’ll be opening that safe.”

The older boy could see his cellmate relent, could see the defeat written on his face. Jae-ha wouldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill in assisting on a government mission by employing his best tricks and con tactics. What had life come to? At this point, reality felt like a well planned-out prank. He couldn’t help thinking how he’d spent most of his life on the run from the police, never looking back to consider that perhaps they weren’t as bad as they seemed. Jae-ha had never considered them to be the bad guys but he’d never considered them to be good either, especially not if they were getting in his way of stopping people like Kum-Ji. He’d certainly never thought that he’d be assisting one — or vice versa.

“As I said, the safe isn't the problem here,” Jae-ha continued, causing his cellmate to abandon his PI duty of shovelling sand altogether. “The problem is that Kum-Ji never leaves his phone in the safe overnight so we’ll have to do this during the day.”

“During the day?” Kija bellowed. “You must certainly be joking!”

Well, Jae-ha had to admit that it was his own fault people never took him seriously, not when all he did was joke around all the time. “That’s where you come in though.”

“Me?”

“You’ll be the distraction, honey,” Jae-ha said. “Chat him up at breakfast, challenge him to a few rounds of poker, I don’t know. Just buy me forty minutes in that room and all’s going to be fine.”

Kija scoffed. “Forty minutes? Impossible.”

“Thirty-five and not a second earlier,” Jae-ha negotiated, knowing full-well he’d be cutting it close as is. 

While under their cover as PI inmates on duty, the two cellmates discussed strategy, trying to refine the plan. Jae-ha requested a variation of tools, only vaguely wondering how Kija would be explaining the reasons behind his request for a stethoscope and safe-cracking picks to his Bureau. The two then went on to pitch ideas on how to download the data from Kum-Ji’s phone, with the topic concluded as Kija suggested bringing in one of the Bureau’s gadgets which could, supposedly, download all the information in a matter of minutes only by being plugged to the phone. It made Jae-ha wonder just how many tech devices they had at their disposal and whether they were anything like the super-spy gadgets from the movies. In any case, he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by asking.

With each of the boys off to fulfill their own tasks — Kija looking to secure all the necessary tools and Jae-ha having nothing better to do than play basketball with the crew, the rest of the day passed quickly, perhaps too much so for their liking.

The next morning, at dawn, the two of them were waiting for the morning headcount, which usually finished just before the doors opened and the inmates were allowed out of their cells. Between the morning headcount and the first buzzer, they had ten minutes during which they’d planned for Jae-ha to get in the tunnel and Kija to screw the bolts in as tightly as he could. They’d also be waiting for Kum-Ji to drop off his phone in the safe before proceeding with the rest of the plan.

Timewise, they were cutting it close and Jae-ha wasn’t even certain that they would make it in time or if he’d have to take shortcuts with the safe — something he usually tried to avoid if possible. The whole thing was risky, true, but the boy liked taking risks.

His cellmate, on the other hand, seemed slightly anxious and mildly panicked, even though Jae-ha had spared him one important detail, one particular complication in the plan. If his cellmate was this worried now, Jae-ha could only imagine what the boy would be like if he told him that this safe model had two combinations — one that opened it and one that locked it permanently. He’d kept that piece of information to himself, knowing fully well that the other boy would shut down in panic if he knew.

It worried Jae-ha but only to the extent that he was feeling slightly tingly. Given enough time, he’d have no trouble picking the lock-out combination apart from the correct one. If he had to take shortcuts to cut back on time, however, he risked missing the slight tonal differences in the two. It was something he had to think about later, though, as there was no use worrying about it just yet.

“It seemed like a good plan yesterday but I’ve had reason to reconsider after giving it some thought,” Kija said, pacing around the small cell.

Jae-ha was lying down on his bed, staring at the metal frame of the top bunk. “What, did you spend all night worrying about it?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s bad for your skin, you know.” Not that Kija seemed to be looking any less radiant despite this being his eleventh day in prison.

“Certainly must be why you have dark circles underneath your eyes then,” Kija mumbled, practically calling him out on it.

“Hey, I slept like a log,” the older boy asserted. “The dark circles must be from all the nights I’ve spent awake cause of your snoring.”

His cellmate whirled around to look at him, that unmistakable pink colour painting his cheeks again. “I do not snore!”

“Whatever you say, honey.”

It wasn’t that Jae-ha enjoyed teasing the poor boy per se. It was more that he genuinely found great joy in watching his reactions.

Truth be told, Jae-ha had indeed been lying when he’d said he’d slept soundly that night. In fact, he’d laid awake, trying to recall every single detail, every lock, lever, and dial of the safe he’d opened a few months ago in that penthouse in Fuuga — the same model that he was about to open now. Some details had eluded him but by the time dawn had come, he’d had a step-by-step plan ready and waiting for him to get to work. Jae-ha had, of course, heard Kija toss and turn throughout the night but he’d figured it best to leave the boy to his own thoughts. 

“Could you please stop pacing?” Jae-ha finally told his cellmate, who was currently doing laps around their cell like some of the inmates over at the psych ward. “I’m getting dizzy just watching you.”

Kija moved to sit at the edge of his bunk, with Jae-ha reluctantly making space for him.

“No, don’t start tapping your feet either. Can’t you just sit still for five minutes?”

“Fine,” Kija relented, though he didn’t sound all too happy about it. 

They could hear the guards finishing their last check of the first floor cells now and beginning to make their way upstairs, to their floor. Waiting around was pure agony, especially knowing that they also had to allow Kum-Ji enough time to place the phone back in the safe before Kija went ahead with his great distraction plan. The detective still hadn’t told Jae-ha what he intended to do but the older boy would just have to hope that whatever it was it was going to be good enough to keep Kum-Ji occupied for thirty-five minutes.

“What’s taking them so long today?” Kija said, tapping his foot once and then sheepishly glancing at Jae-ha as though hoping the other boy hadn’t noticed.

“It’s the same every morning, you’re just impatient today,” Jae-ha told him. “It’s like watching a kid wait for his turn on the rollercoaster or something.”

“I particularly dislike rollercoasters.”

Jae-ha smiled. “Somehow, I’m not surprised at all. Bet you were the type of kid to sit at home and read books all day.”

His cellmate blushed and bingo, there was his answer to that question.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Jae-ha said. “I just prefer being out there and living my own adventures rather than reading about somebody else’s.”

Kija seemed to mull this over. “You say that and yet you’re the one who’s playing Robin Hood.”

“And you’re the one who’s playing Sherlock.”

“I am not.”

“Are so.”

The two bickered some more, with Kija getting progressively more flustered and Jae-ha’s grin getting wider and wider. When the guards finally approached their cell for the morning headcount, the two boys fell silent in wait. Normally, the guards didn’t tolerate Jae-ha’s remarks so he felt that he shouldn’t aggravate them today of all days. Plus, he’d already had his daily dose of teasing his poor cellmate so he wasn’t feeling too eager to pick a fight right now.

Once the men were gone, the two boys got to work. As he entered the tunnel, Jae-ha turned back to look at his cellmate, who was peering into the darkness of the tunnel. 

“I’ll be fine,” the older boy said. “Just make sure you screw the bolts as tightly as possible, alright?”

“Alright,” Kija muttered hollowly. “But for the record, I still think this is a bad idea.”

Of course he did. “We’re over this. Don’t you trust me?”

The look of worry on Kija's face affected Jae-ha in ways he hadn’t quite anticipated — he hated that he was causing lines of worry to appear on the boy’s angelic face and somehow, even worse still, it made him uncomfortable to have someone’s concern for him weighing him down.

“I trust you,” Kija told him, frowning. “That doesn’t make me any less worried.”

Jae-ha was used to the heists and the dangers, the risks; what he wasn’t used to was someone waiting for his return. It was different with Gi-gan and the team because they were all in the same boat, each fending for themselves while out on a mission. Kija’s concern caught him off guard. The boy was looked at him with those big blue eyes and Jae-ha was certain he needed to get back in that tunnel before he did something he might regret later.

He forced a smile to his lips. “How touching. I’d rather have cute young girls worry over me but I guess you’re the next best thing. Now close the gap and screw the bolts, would you?”

And the boy did, but not before sending him one last look of concern. As soon as he slid the toilet shut, all light seemed to drain out of the empty space, like a candle that had been snuffed out, and Jae-ha was left in absolute darkness.

Cautiously, he began moving along the tunnels, though he was moving slowly, letting his vision adjust first. Everything was still pitch-black this early on into the tunnel, as there were no vents or other cracks in the walls. The first sign of light came only after he’d passed the cell block and had begun moving over the communal showers for the first floor cells. This part of the tunnel was the most uncomfortable, with the ceiling hanging low and the vents being positioned directly on his right, leaving room for too much exposure. Thankfully, inmates were only now starting to come in and queue for the showers so he didn’t have much trouble passing through unnoticed.

So far, the only sounds had been the haunted clatter coming from various cells and the occasional distorted snippet of a conversation or the boots of a guard walking close by. As he got closer to the canteen, however, everything got louder — like an orchestra of sounds. Jae-ha tensed, feeling the whole tunnel echo and vibrate from the noise; it was like nothing he’d ever heard and he was certain the sound would haunt him forever. There were footsteps, hundreds of them, each echoing like a thunderclap through the tunnel and his body. There was raging chatter, magnified almost tenfold, and booming clatter of tableware.

Through a vent in the tunnel, Jae-ha peered at the outside world and saw the canteen brimming with people. Even though breakfast wasn’t ready to be served yet, the PI inmates on duty at the kitchens only just heading there to prepare the daily slab of grey oatmeal blob, most inmates were still heading for the canteen, off to sit down and chat away or simply stare into space.

His heartbeat accelerated at the thought that he’d be crossing right on top of their heads, that somebody might notice a strange shadow darting through the vents. He was concerned that moving right now might expose him, especially as he’d be moving over the canteen, where the tunnel was filled with small pockets of light. If so much as one of these inmates looked up at the wrong time, he’d be done for.

And yet, despite those perilous odds, there wasn’t only concern that had taken root in his mind. There was another thought, too, one that was deeply alluring — that he’d be doing something so risky and daring in broad daylight, that it’d be like laughing in all of their faces. Jae-ha might as well be saying: “Look at me! I’m right here and yet none of you have ever made it where I stand!”

With that new thought giving him all the motivation he needed, Jae-ha crossed over the canteen with little to no delay, checking only to see if Kum-Ji was there — who wasn’t. Neither was Kija, for that matter.

When Jae-ha finally reached the mafia lord's meeting room, the man was just placing the painting over the safe — honestly, did he really expect that no one would question why there was a painting in an otherwise empty room, in a prison? The boy waited for him to leave; he waited for the satisfying bang of the door falling shut and then the click of its lock before he could move again.

That was it: thirty-five minutes and counting.

The master thief had already done as much preparations as he could: he’d gathered the tools, loosened the bolts of the vent, and now all he needed to do was push the metal lid to the side.

With the agility of a cat, he lowered himself from the opening and dropped down right on top of Kum-Ji’s wooden desk. From there, it was only business; it was nothing he hadn’t done before. Perhaps prison had made him slow and meeting Kija, a government agent, had confused him for a moment but right now, he was just Jae-ha and he was about to do what he did best — steal from the rich.

When he’d first started doing it, Jae-ha had been so nervous he’d felt sick. The target had been a big shot, like they all were, and Gi-gan had entrusted Jae-ha with breaking into the mark’s office and taking any incriminating evidence that they could then hand over to the police as an anonymous (but gracious) tip. Jae-ha wasn’t the nervous type but that day his fingers had shook and he’d felt exceptionally clumsy — he’d nearly knocked over an ashtray. Since then, he’d devised a step-by-step strategy: break up every action into a succession of easily digestible bits and never overwhelm yourself with unnecessary information. It had never failed him and it wouldn’t fail him now.

One, he would carefully remove the painting. Two, he would bring the stethoscope to the metal surface of the safe and listen in as he moved the dials. And so forth until he was back in that cell, with that boy.

Jae-ha had deemed it best to avoid the lock-out combination by singling out the different reverberation of a wrong number, a right number, and a lock-out number. Mercifully, this model had slight tonal differences in each, though he had to listen in with extra vigilance through the stethoscope to catch them. With that out of the way, he could get to work on unlocking each dial, though he suspected he’d wasted too much time already. He checked the watch that he’d requested from Kija — the Bureau sure liked giving out expensive watches — and noted that he’d already used up ten minutes, leaving him with about twenty-five to open the safe, download the data, close it back up, and exit the room.

It wasn’t going to be enough, not at the rate that he was going. He’d have to best his own record or he’d be truly and utterly done for.

After the first successful dial, Jae-ha heard a satisfying click as the first notch fell into its place. He began working on the second dial, this time faster, more reckless. It was only with five minutes to spare that the last dial clicked and Jae-ha wiped away the sweat on his face with the back of his hand. He didn’t need the stethoscope to hear as the metal disks of the safe rotated so that all of their notches could line up together and a bar could drop into the newly created recess in the disks, allowing for the bolts to retract. Jae-ha could almost picture it all happening behind the metal plates.

There was one final click and then the door of the safe swung open.

“Let’s see what you’ve got in here,” Jae-ha said to himself, peering at the contents of the safe.

He wasn’t surprised to find the safe brimming with items: there were two stacks of carefully arranged ledgers, a tall pile of money, Kaitei cigars, and tucked all the way at the very back, there sat Kum-Ji’s phone. The boy picked it up first, inserting the USB plug which was connected to a device that looked about as large as a power bank but was supposedly equipped with security-decryption and data-downloading software — he didn’t really know; Kija had tried to explain it to him but Jae-ha had never been particularly tech-savvy. He turned it on and let the device to do what it was supposed to, consulting his watch so he could measure exactly two minutes before checking back on its progress.

While it was certainly true that the phone was his objective, that didn’t mean Jae-ha didn’t have any additional agenda of his own. He couldn’t have stopped himself from inspecting the rest of the contents of the safe even if he’d tried, which he certainly had not. It was in his blood; curiosity was part of a thief’s calling. You couldn’t teach a wolf how to hunt and then expect it not to.

In fact, he doubted even Kija, the poster child of the law, had thought Jae-ha would be able to constrain himself from snooping around. Maybe he’d even counted on it. Then again, who knew what was going on inside that boy’s pretty head anyway?

Out of all the contents in the safe, it was one particular ledger which stood out and caught Jae-ha’s attention — it was a small red one, whereas all the rest were black, stacked in two piles of uniform size. It was almost as though it called for him to pick it up. And so Jae-ha did.

The surprise he felt as he opened Kum-Ji’s red ledger and began scanning its pages was only an initial reaction but thinking about it, Jae-ha shouldn’t have been surprised at all. In fact, he’d have been surprised had he not found at least one list of names. It seemed that the whole ledger consisted of them, spanning dozens of pages — it was all names, one after another, row after row. Some of them were scratched out, others circled, and the rest appeared otherwise intact. And although Jae-ha couldn’t recognise any of the names with certainty, and some he’d only heard in passing, he could tell what this ledger was without a single shred of doubt.

It was a hit list.

Jae-ha had read enough of those in his life to know when he saw one. He quickly checked the device — 70% done, good — and deemed he had enough time to see if he could recognise any names. He was searching for one in particular, though he wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or anxious at the prospect of finding it amongst the sea of targets.

And when he saw it, on the second-to-last page, he could only stare at it with an odd sense of calm, at his own name, written by Kum-Ji’s sloppy hand. “Jae-ha”, the entry read. It was circled, though Jae-ha hadn’t managed to understand what that meant.

He whistled. “Boy, oh boy, this can’t be any good.”

As his eyes scanned the rest of the page, he saw the names of the rest of his crew: “Maya”, “Rowen”, “Tatsu”, “Toku”, “Ryou”. This couldn’t be good at all. Gi-gan’s name was missing — thankfully — and Kija’s hadn’t made the list. Yet.

Jae-ha stood frozen in time as he stared at his name, in the death ledger of this country’s biggest mafia lord — of all the places, of all the people… He wondered why and how he’d become such a prime suspect in this man’s life, a thorn in his side that he had not only considered disposing of but whose removal had already been arranged. He wondered what he had been doing the very moment that Kum-Ji had written his name on that hit list; he wondered which one of the million things he’d done to provoke him had spurred the man on to finally add Jae-ha’s name to his little collection. For how long had his name sat there? For how long had he been blissfully unaware and how long did he have still?

Suddenly, there was a loud bang out into the hallway — like doors falling shut, and then there were footsteps. 

“Mr Kum-Ji, I would like to play another game of mahjong,” Kija was saying on the other side of the door, still far away but not far enough.

Jae-ha froze for a solid second before his instincts took over his body and then he was shoving the ledger and the phone — now disconnected from Kija’s device — back in their original places. Divide the work into steps and don’t get overwhelmed, Jae-ha reminded himself.

“I believe we’ve had enough fun for today, my boy. Another time perhaps.”

One, he shut the door of the safe.

“If I may ask, where did you learn to play? It has been quite some time since I’ve last played against a worthy opponent.”

Two, he hung the painting back up.

“Please, my boy, we both know you were pulling your punches.”

Three, he picked up his tools.

“But I—”

“I am afraid business beckons,” Kum-Ji interrupted him and Jae-ha heard the key slide in the lock. “Come to me tomorrow, in the morning, and we shall discuss the trafficking deal then.”

Jae-ha braced himself on top of Kum-Ji’s desk and pushed himself up with his arms as quickly as he could, though the hole was uncomfortably small and climbing up was always more difficult than climbing down. He managed to place the vent back in its place right as the door opened. With a muffled sigh, the boy collapsed against the tunnel, trying to even out his breathing without panting, though staying quiet right now was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

He supposed he ought to feel flattered for being on Kum-Ji's hit list.

If the man wanted war, then he would have it and Jae-ha would gladly bring it to his own doorstep. A man like him would never be able to hurt Jae-ha or the crew, or anybody — Jae-ha would make sure he wouldn’t be able to, he’d make sure the Bureau locked him up behind a foot of steel and concrete, somewhere he could never threaten anyone again, steal from anyone again, somewhere the air he breathed would be the most precious thing he’d have.

After all, two could play a game and Jae-ha was only just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. I intended to post earlier in the day but I had such a high fever that I was shaking and was so dizzy I couldn't think straight, talk about editing the chapter (one of my flatmates is making me a special Chinese soup to nurse me back to health so all hope is not lost!)
> 
> Anyways... So, Jae-ha's on Kum-Ji's hit-list... Yeah, I'm starting to feel slightly worried about our boys, people. Dare I say that it's been mostly smooth-sailing for now and it almost feels too good to be true. There's a lot of things that can potentially go wrong for our boys so let's all wish them luck, shall we?
> 
> On another note, I'm super excited about Chapter 7! I'll be posting it exactly a week from now, meaning next Thursday so stay tuned! Hopefully, I'll be feeling much better by then and I'll be able to upload it first thing in the morning instead of making you all wait! See you then! <3


	7. Night Breeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for keeping up with the story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading about your thoughts and predictions!

—Kija—

As a detective, being forced to take a step back on your own investigation and let others do the work had simply been unthinkable. Kija had always thought his own pride would not be able to take such a hit and yet, here he was, in a position that felt as uncomfortable as it was unfamiliar.

He had let his cellmate help him, which was already more than he’d allowed himself before, and then he’d also gone and let him take care of the task of acquiring Kum-Ji’s phone data altogether. They’d gotten the data, true, but then Kija had sent it straight to Shin-ah and the rest of the team, passing ownership so quickly that he’d gotten whiplash. It almost seemed like he’d been scratched off the equation almost completely and it scared him. It scared him that a criminal had done a better job than him and that the agents of his team could decipher everything without him.

Such thoughts were treacherous, Kija knew. He also knew that he shouldn’t give in to weaknesses like these, that self-doubts would only weaken his judgement and that at the end of the day, none of it was really true. He knew what his mission was and he knew his part was integral to the team so why were these thoughts making an appearance now, of all times? Now, when everything was going according to plan?

In fact, preparations were going splendidly, even by Kija’s standards. Shin-ah had already gotten back to him that Zeno was tracking down the leads and that Soo-Won was confident in the progress which they were making. Dare he say, Kum-Ji’s phone data might be yielding better results than he’d previously allowed himself to hope for. Perhaps the Chief wouldn’t pull him out of the prison just yet. But it was still much too early to be celebrating and Kija wasn’t one to pause for a pat on the back.

No, the mission wasn’t what worried him right now. The reason behind Kija’s doubts was rooted somewhere else. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

Something was amiss. And it was all about Jae-ha, as it usually seemed to be these days. There had been something different about him when the older boy had gotten back from the tunnels, during the allotted shower time for their cell block.

It had started after he’d heard the boy knock twice, as per their agreed signal, and Kija had helped him back inside the cell. The warning bells had rung loud and clear in his head as his cellmate had placed the small data device in his hands and gone straight for the showers, trying to brush past Kija without any of the usual pizazz. 

“Wait,” Kija had said, and there had a million things to say, to ask. Suddenly, he’d felt guilty for relying on this man for something Kija himself should have done, as a detective, as the man who was responsible for the success of this mission. At that moment, he didn’t have the guts to say anything more than a simple “Thank you. It means a lot.”

Jae-ha had turned around and grinned. “Oh yeah? And where’s my thank-you kiss then?”

But despite the tone, Kija had known Jae-ha’s mind had been somewhere else. Even the grin had been a fake one.

The older boy had tried to don the usual mask of light-hearted humour but Kija hadn’t been fooled — not when he seemed to have made such a habit of studying him, every manner of his character and quirk of his personality. He’d immediately known the smile had been staged, forced, fake. And when Jae-ha had brushed past him, Kija had realised with a terrible jolt that the older boy had been shaking.  
Perhaps the reason behind his doubts wasn’t as much his discomfort in his current state of irrelevance as it was a piece of knowledge that he’d somehow managed to ignore until now. It was the knowledge that he was getting a civilian — albeit one with a criminal background — mixed up in business that was clearly not safe for him.

Was Jae-ha perhaps having regrets for helping him? Or was it that he’d finally realised that no good would ever come out of plotting against a mafia lord such as Kum-Ji? Kija could not blame him, whatever the reason. He even vowed not to let himself be disappointed when the inevitable did happen: when Jae-ha would come up to him and tell him he was out for good. Because no one in their right mind would stay, would they?

So when the time came that Kija visited Kum-Ji at his office for the trafficking deal, he had the odd sense that this whole ordeal was going to be ending soon. It was a rush, it was more whiplash, knowing that his part in the mission was somewhat at its end, that if negotiations went well today, he might be out by the end of the week — if of course Chief Mun-Dok didn’t expedite the extraction.

At the very least, when the detective approached Kye-Sook and followed him to Kum-Ji’s so-called office, Kija looked forward to the conversation if it meant he wouldn’t be thinking about anything else, anything unnecessary.

Kum-Ji’s men had learned to welcome him with open arms at this point in time. The boy had been spending most of his mornings with them, even if he wasn’t talking business with their boss. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ was a lesson with even more value in prison than on the outside. 

“Kija,” Yang Kum-Ji greeted as though he were seeing an old friend and gestured towards a bottle of scotch he’d placed on the otherwise empty table. “We have good cause for celebration, as you already know. Sit down, my boy.”

The detective watched as one of Kum-Ji’s men poured him a drink. Kija was by no means a man to indulge in a vice such as alcohol — he’d never had a taste for it, nor for its after-effects. To him, it seemed unnecessary and dull, like something he’d rather not waste his time with. But as Kum-Ji raised his glass, Kija had no other choice but to pretend his willingness to drink scotch wasn’t as limited as his expertise in telling apart a single malt from a Piña colada.

“With this, we should be able to arrange for reshipments of nadai to Sei at any time,” Kum-Ji said and their glasses clinked. “Tell me, what of your reward? Have you thought about what you want in return?”

Kija had, indeed. He wanted to see the utter collapse of Kum-Ji’s entire empire of illegal businesses and nasty dealings — that would be the only reward worth having — but for now, he’d simply have to settle down for a game of cat and mouse.

The boy shook his head and took a sip, trying not to wince at the burn of the scotch. “This one’s on the house. I don’t have a taste for drug trades.”

“Then I assume it is the human trafficking deal that holds your interest.” Kum-Ji set his glass on the table. “After all, that is why you came to me in the first place.”

“Indeed, I was thinking that since I will be bringing in an entire market, it is only fair that I get my cut from all Sei profits.”

The man nodded. “How much?”

Before Kija had been sent undercover at Awa State Penitentiary, Soo-Won had drilled him on negotiation tactics specifically for this purpose, for this moment. He’d explained how important it was to start with a number that would be refused, to show drive, and build down slowly — with neither too much eager, nor too much delay or the negotiations might fall apart.

“Fifty percent,” Kija replied with some semblance of Hak’s resilience during the usual interrogations back at the head office.

“I like you, my boy, and your ambition is clear,” Kum-Ji said. “However, I am afraid that what you are asking is too much.”

Of course, Soo-Won had said he’d refuse the offer; it had all been planned. Kija followed the agent’s advice and armed himself with Hak’s confidence. “Forty.”

“Thirty, with a gift: one of my smaller businesses, a moderately profitable liquor store.”

Kija tried to appear casual so he forced himself to take another sip of his drink. “Thirty-five, with the store.”

That daring maneuver earned him a sound of disapproval from Kye-Sook, who always supervised their meetings and more often than not made his disdain for Kija’s manners known by clicking his tongue loudly. Kum-Ji, on the other hand, seemed amused. He laughed and it was a rusty sound like metal plates scraping together. Kija hoped he’d never have to hear it again.

“Alright, so be it. I like your boldness, though you certainly don’t seem it at a glance, my boy.” The mafia lord also didn’t seem to take him for an undercover detective either so Kija was beginning to harbour some serious doubts about the man’s deductive skills. “What do you require to make the first test run from Kouka to Sei?”

Ah, yes, finally — the reason why Kija had come to the Penitentiary in the first place. 

“I need contact details for all the venues that will be collecting the merchandise,” he began, though the word ‘merchandise’ left a foul aftertaste in his mouth, “and on all the people who’re working on your distribution lines.” A nod. “The buyer-houses where my men will be delivering to as well.”

“The buyer-houses are placed under my discretion, as I have promised them, so your men will be delivering to plots that I personally own in Sei.”

Kija smiled, knowing fully well that even Kum-Ji’s protection would not help hide those buyer-houses. The Bureau’s agents will be taking it all down. Once they started tracking the men and the venues along with those plots in Sei, no criminal with connections to Kum-Ji would be able to do as they pleased ever again. Like surging water during a flood, it would all come down and no man would withstand the force, no secret would remain concealed, no illegal established rooted, no money in the accounts. Kija only wished he could see Kum-Ji’s face as it all happened.

He nodded. “I understand, that works just as well.”

“Kye-Sook,” the mafia lord addressed his lackey, “you heard what he needs, go fetch it for him.”

Despite a rather venomous glare in Kija’s general direction, Kye-Sook exited the room for what Kija could only assume was to gather the information he needed and hand it over to him. 

Was it too early to celebrate now? Because Kija’s heart was fluttering in his chest, his pride having healed from the wounds that his earlier doubts had inflicted upon it. And indeed, it may have been too early because Kum-Ji’s next words proved his happiness was short-lived.

“However, we have one other matter to discuss,” the man said, making the hairs at the back of Kija’s neck stand on end.

What now? Now, of all possible moments when things could have gone wrong? “What concerns you, sir?”

“Your cellmate,” Kum-Ji replied simply and the boy felt as though the rug had been pulled from right underneath his feet. “Jae-ha, correct?”

“Yes, what about him?” Kija said, on edge. This couldn’t be good at all.

“That man has caused me and my men many troubles in the past,” the man mused. “Quite the mystery why he would pop up in here after also lurking around the raid that got me locked up in the first place, don’t you think?”

Kija didn’t like this one bit. His heart was thumping loudly but he had to force himself to calm down and play pretend. “Are you saying that he’s here for you, sir?”

“I haven’t managed to understand his exact motives just yet,” Kum-Ji said. “But he’s been watching us. He knows we’re working together.”

That he most definitely did. “Is that a problem, sir?”

“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Say, has he given you any trouble? Tried to extract information about us from you?”

“No,” Kija said, his panic rising. “We haven’t gotten along since the start so we don’t converse much. Even if he is suspicious, he hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Yet,” the man repeated, partially confirming Kija’s fears of what words were about to leave his mouth next. “But he may become a problem soon. That boy is planning something, I can tell by his expression. He’s got the eyes of a caged animal that’s about to attack.”

Kija said nothing, his heart slamming too hard and too fast.

“In any case, I’ll take care of him so rest assured,” Kum-Ji said finally.

The boy felt as though he had just been drenched in icy water. “With all due respect, sir, there’s certainly no need to trouble yourself. I may not look it but I can take care of myself just fine.”

“My boy, it would seem you still have much to learn. Remember this as a lesson for the future: just because you can do something yourself does not mean you should. Why build an entire empire of followers otherwise?” Kum-Ji was laughing, amused by Kija’s youthful ways, it seemed. “Now go, I have other matters to attend to. And leave that boy for me to deal with.”

Kija let his body carry him outside, feeling himself sinking in the underwater currents of a rising panic as he met Kye-Sook out into the hallway and gingerly accepted the pages with the information he’d requested. Although his heart wasn’t into it and his mind was elsewhere, the boy managed to gather his thoughts enough to follow Soo-Won’s instructions. Before he had to pass them onto Shin-ah, he scribbled down a hurried note: “Go after them at the earliest opportunity”. Perhaps he couldn’t stop Kum-Ji from hurting Jae-ha but he could still make sure the mafia lord was too preoccupied with his demise to go through with his intentions. Would there be enough time?

As the detective entered the canteen, he signalled to Shin-ah and tossed the crumpled notes to one of the bins, purposefully missing the container. Kija sought out Jae-ha with his eyes almost as soon as he’d sat down at one of the benches but his cellmate was only laughing at something Maya had said, completely unaware of the danger he was in. That meant he hadn’t listened in on Kija’s conversation with Kum-Ji and had no idea about the mafia lord’s plans for him.

Perhaps Kija could sabotage Kum-Ji’s plans but how? What was stopping the man from having Jae-ha hurt — or worse, killed in a chaotic scuffle between prisoners — today, right now even? Suddenly, he realised that there wasn’t time to wait for the Bureau’s agents to start the raid — it would take them days and Jae-ha did not have time in his favour.

Kija sat by himself at the very back, as usual, so as to not raise suspicion, but even the mere action caused him discomfort. He needed to get to Jae-ha now but some of Kum-Ji’s men were out in the canteen and watching. He wanted to shout, to convey his warning in a simple gaze but how could he? And when Jae-ha finally looked his way, the lazy smile soured on the older boy’s face but still, he wouldn’t know. The two just stared at each other, with Kija unable to relay the danger his cellmate was in to him.

Waiting for the evening buzzer was by far the cruelest torture Kija had had to endure during the entire operation at the prison. He’d have tried to lead Jae-ha outside in the court, perhaps by the PI shacks again, were it not for the desert storm that was blowing in and because of which no prisoners were allowed outside today. He’d have spied an empty PI supply room and dragged him in there but all the guards were inside now, patrolling every corridor. So instead, he waited.

Usually, he’d join the afternoon group activities and classes that the prison offered — he had found himself enjoying the arts and crafts programmes more than he’d ever expected to. However, today Kija stayed in the entertainment room, playing chess against opponents who couldn’t possibly have suspected that Kija had been a chess champion as early as age ten. At this point in time he was moving the pieces more on instinct than thought, his mind travelling to Jae-ha and wondering if Kum-Ji’s plans for him weren’t already set in motion.

Was Kija responsible for all this; had he been the one to guide Kum-Ji’s gaze to Jae-ha by some accident or another? Would Jae-ha blame him when he found out? After all, he’d already been acting more distant ever since retrieving the data from Kum-Ji’s phone.

When the evening buzzer finally rang out across the prison, it spared Kija of his progressively more grim thoughts, though it meant he’d be facing Jae-ha’s reaction to the news and he wasn’t quite ready for that. He promised himself that he’d take it, whatever his cellmate’s response was. 

Once inside the cell in the evening, the boy saw Jae-ha look at him straight away. He must have been waiting for Kija to decide for himself when he’d want to talk about what was bothering him because the older boy didn’t say anything at first. Kija reckoned he didn’t deserve his kindness at all.

“Apparently, that Mizari guy from the isolation block tried to make a run for it today,” Jae-ha said with a whistle. “Damn, ain’t this prison getting livelier each day.”

Kija hummed in agreement, thinking. How do you tell someone that they had just become a target for a mafia lord’s bunch of hired killers?

“Hey, you alright there?” Jae-ha asked, leaning against the bunks’ metal frame so they were eye-level even though Kija was the shorter one out of the two.

“Y-yeah, just thinking.”

It was perfectly clear at this point that Kija was trying to avoid eye-contact, even though Jae-ha was leaning close enough that it was getting progressively more difficult to avoid his gaze.

“Well, did he take the bait?” Jae-ha tried a more direct approach.

“He did. We’ve probably got a few days before the agents start the raid, though I don’t know yet.”

“You actually did it, Sherly!” But he apparently took note of Kija’s persistently tense expression and lack of response to the god-awful nickname because he changed gears right away: “What’s wrong then?”  
“Jae-ha, how do you feel about speeding up your escape plan?”

The older boy raised his eyebrows at him. “You know I don’t like being rushed. What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“It’s just that—”

“It’s just that what?”

“Kum-Ji has his sights on you,” the detective hissed out and then added, all in a single breath, “He knows about you, knows what you do and who you are, and now he’s sending his men after you.”  
His cellmate simply gave him a lazy smile, one that was neither genuine, nor fake. “Well, would you really blame him? I’m surprised he’s managed to resist my charm for so long.”

“No, I mean, he thinks you’re going to make a move to stop our deal.”

“To be perfectly honest, I would have but you turned out to be a government agent so I decided to sit this one out.”

“How are you not the least bit concerned?” Kija felt himself getting agitated. “He told me that he’s ordered his men to take care of you.”

“Then I’d be in good hands.”

“Stop it,” Kija said, looking up to stare at his cellmate with a plea in his expression. “Please, listen to me. Forget about the hole, you need to take the crew and make a run for it tonight. I’ll talk to the Warden and—”

“What?” Jae-ha said, stunned. “You know, for such a smart detective you can be a pretty bad study of character. Do you really take me for the kind of person to run away at the first sign of danger?”

“But if you don’t, his men are going to hurt you or worse.”

“It’s out of the question,” the older boy said with a sense of finality in his tone. “Besides, you don’t want to know what the guards would do to you if they found six prisoners missing and a hole in your cell wall. Your Warden friend’s gonna find you only after they’re done.”

“Kum-Ji’s men might kill you, don’t you understand!” Kija replied with all the stubbornness that ran in the blood of all family generations before him. It was almost a rule that the more agitated he got, the stubborn he became. “What the guards do to me doesn’t matter if it means you won’t be dying on the floor of the canteen tomorrow.”

Jae-ha, perhaps seeing that his words had done very little to sway the boy, took a step closer and for a moment Kija’s mind blanked out as he tried to conjure thoughts of what the other boy would do next. Punch him? Perhaps; he certainly deserved it. Instead, however, Jae-ha pulled him into his chest. Gently, almost as if unsure whether Kija would actually want to and giving him plenty of time to pull away. But when Kija didn’t make any effort to break away, the older boy’s arms went around his back and their chests were pressed together.

“I thought I told you that they can’t do anything to me, none of them can,” Jae-ha murmured very quietly but Kija could hear every word and feel each exhaled breath tingle his neck. “I won’t let them hurt any of us.”

Kija wanted to say that it wasn’t himself that he was worried about but instead went silent and let Jae-ha’s warmth take away his worries. The boy didn’t say anything at all, feeling as though somewhere between Jae-ha hugging him and whispering promises into this ear, he’d lost both the battle and his will to argue.

Perhaps Kija really didn’t deserve the sort of kindness that Jae-ha held in his heart for him.

That night, Jae-ha didn’t wake him up when it was time to change shifts but Kija woke up on instinct. He had always been wound like clockwork so when the time came, he went in to force Jae-ha into taking his break. Although they were making steady progress with the wall thanks to the tools Shin-ah had smuggled into their cell, the wall still stood, cracked and dented, and they hadn’t managed to bring it down. Kija could swear they were close but just not there yet.

With Kum-Ji’s intentions ringing like emergency bells in his mind, the boy forced himself to dig faster and to swing the hammer harder. Maybe Jae-ha wasn’t showing his worries openly but Kija had promised to help his crew escape and now that time was starting to tick against them, he’d have to try harder.

The boy remembered the first time Jae-ha had introduced him to them. It had felt personal somehow, almost as if Kija was meeting his family. They had grown to him — Maya with his enthusiasm, Rowen with his rough but loving nature, Jae-ha with his smile, with his strong hands calloused from digging their escape…

Those men’s ways may not be the law’s definition of good but their motives deserved to be acknowledged and Kija wouldn’t let their lives be ruined by a fiend like Kum-Ji.

The swing of the hammer was getting more difficult to control at this speed and the strength of the impact as it connected with the wall was causing pain to shoot up his arms. He was overexerting himself, he knew. But Kija had to keep going; he had to or he’d never forgive himself — not as a detective who’d sworn to protect people from men like Kum-Ji and certainly not as a person whose morals couldn’t just let him watch people risk their lives and do nothing to help them.

Kija lost control of the swing of the hammer and felt the whole tunnel shudder as it hit the wall. He blinked and coughed away the dust which had kicked up into the air. And then he felt the light lash of wind on his cheek — it was so light, so tender, almost like a gentle touch.

The dead-end to their escape had given way to a tunnel, with moonlight seeping from the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry about posting today instead of yesterday as I originally promised! The truth is, I had to power through 40 hours of no sleep so when I got back home I tried to edit the chapter but fell asleep on my desk (lol). And then when I finally woke up, AO3's server was down... So to make up for that, I'll be posting Chapter 8 on Monday and I'll also be posting every Monday from now on to make sure I have enough time and that stuff like that doesn't happen again :(
> 
> Anyways, I am actually super excited for Chapter 8 and I have a sneaking suspicion you all are gonna love it just as much as I do so stay tuned - it's only a three-day wait now! :)


	8. Unspoken Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for keeping up with the story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading about your thoughts and predictions!
> 
> (NSFW WARNING)

—Jae-ha—

Jae-ha was dreaming of the past again; it was a sequence of nightmares intertwined with pieces of reality, of a life he’d long since left behind, and he wasn’t sure which one was worse. For the most part, it was always the same — Garou’s face, his words, Jae-ha’s own helplessness. He’d always run away, or try to, but now there was a new face waiting for him on the other end of the line, Kum-Ji’s, and he’d have nowhere to run to. Wasn’t it ironic really, that even in his dreams Jae-ha would be bouncing from one evil to the next? 

He had been stuck in the same loop, dashing between Garou’s smile and Kum-Ji’s knife for what seemed like an eternity, when he was shaken awake. It was a harsh awakening, as though the ground had suddenly split in two underneath him, but it was nevertheless merciful. Jae-ha wasn’t certain how much longer he’d have been able to keep running away from those men and if he’d have had the strength to continue for much longer.

For now, at least, reality was preferable to the nightmares. He was glad to welcome it when the alternative was being caught in a never-ending spiral into horror.

But when he opened his eyes, Jae-ha thought this certainly wasn’t the reality he knew because it seemed he’d woken up in heaven. There was a bare-chested angel telling him to wake up. And then Jae-ha finally did, only to realise he was not in heaven but rather, in prison.

The fact that he’d mistaken Kija for an angel wasn’t beyond belief, what with the boy’s silver hair and alabaster skin. The idea that this same boy, with the innocence of an eighteenth-century maiden, had apparently ditched his shirt somewhere — though that didn’t seem to bother him as much as it did Jae-ha — was absolutely inconceivable. Jae-ha must be dreaming; he must be. In fact, he was becoming progressively more certain that this was another elaborate nightmare and Garou was waiting to torture him on the other side of the wall.

“We did it, Jae-ha!” Kija whispered feverishly, still dangerously close to poor confused Jae-ha. “We broke it!”

That was when Jae-ha’s brain finally started to catch up on what was actually going on. They were back in their cell and Kija had been digging the tunnel… And now he was saying they had broken… The wall?!

“What?” Jae-ha sat up in his bunk so fast he almost bumped heads with his cellmate.

“It’s a tunnel and it leads to the ocean, just as you said it did!” Kija whispered back. “You were right!”

With the nightmares quickly forgotten, the older boy clambered out of bed and across the room in a flash. “Come on, I need to see it.”

Jae-ha fell in step behind his cellmate, who led the way through the dark tunnels. From this position, poor Jae-ha quickly realised that he was doomed — utterly doomed. On the one hand, sure, he appreciated the view of Kija’s strong back, even if all he could see were faint outlines. On the other, he could clearly see the shimmers of sweat that had gathered in pools at his lower back and it was stirring something within him that he simply didn’t have the time to deal with right now. The more he looked, the less he could control that feeling but then were he to try and not look at all, he’d hunger all the more.

There was something else too, across Kija’s back. The older boy only noticed it in passing, as they reached a part of the tunnel where a faint fluorescent afterglow of a recently turned-off light bounced across Kija’s back. Jae-ha couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t sure whether to trust his eyes, but it looked like a scar.

“Right, it’s just a little further up,” Kija whispered. “Oh, Jae-ha, you won’t believe it.”

But Jae-ha was still staring at the boy’s back, hoping for another dart of light to illuminate the secrets he couldn’t stop himself from craving to know. “Try me.”

“No,” it looked like he was shaking his head, “you have to see it for yourself.”

They had just reached the last crossroad and were making their way through the last bit of the tunnel when Jae-ha finally did see it: the wall had completely collapsed. On the other end stood another tunnel, this one older but much larger, enough for both of the boys to crawl through side by side. On the floor, in front of the now collapsed wall, lay Kija’s prison-issue undershirt, and Jae-ha vaguely wondered whether he shouldn’t just hide it so the boy’d never don it on again. Childish, he knew, but was it worth it — a hundred percent.

When they crossed the wall, Jae-ha almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Less than three feet in front of him was where the tunnel ended, where the rock that the Penitentiary was perched on made room for the ocean. There was nothing standing in their way to freedom now. No bars, no walls, nothing. It was just the sky, the moonlight, and the ocean. And them.

They had done it. Saints be kind, they had actually done it!

“If you look this happy now, wait until you see the whole thing,” Kija told him and the older boy only just realised that his cellmate had been watching his expression.

The boy had sat right at the edge of the tunnel, his feet dangling in the wind, and Jae-ha followed suit. As soon as Kija made space for him, Jae-ha gasped. He’d been unable to stop it; the breath had been knocked out of his lungs.

The tunnel cut off abruptly and when he glanced down, he could see the ocean right beneath them — they were a little higher than he expected but it gave him a great sense of thrill. The ocean gleamed, the moon and stars casting silver shimmers across its waves. Above them, the night sky stretched gorgeous and alive — much like the ocean, with tiny specks of light dancing across its surface.

“It looks like something straight out of a movie,” Kija said and although he was facing the ocean, Jae-ha could tell that he, too, was grinning like a fool. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Jae-ha, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to laugh, turned to look at him but when his eyes rested on Kija’s back, he did a double-take. This time, with moonlight illuminating the boy’s skin, Jae-ha could see clearly. The scar — or rather, the scars. Kija’s back was littered with them — thick, long lines ran across one shoulder blade to the other and back. The scars seemed old, old enough to have fused with his skin and to have left no trace of redness but also deep enough to have never healed properly.

His mind was coming up blank with explanations. The ‘how’s echoed in his skull and he was ready to voice his questions out loud. He was ready to ask but he was suddenly afraid to know the answers. Would they be similar to his own memories of ropes and pain? If they were, did he have any right to ask something that would cause this beautiful boy any pain?

In the end, Jae-ha was about to ask — he knew he shouldn’t but the question was already on his tongue, the sound already making his way from his throat to his lips — when Kija’s voice reached him first.

“I’ve never seen so many stars before,” the boy confessed.

Jae-ha did his best attempt at his trade-mark smile. “Oh yeah, you said you live in Hiryuu, right? Bet you can’t see the stars from the capital.”

“No, the city’s far too lively at night. And it’s always cloudy.” Kija kicked his feet into the air. “Where are you from?”

After a moment of silence, Jae-ha shook his head. “That doesn’t really matter anymore. All I care about is where I want to be and that certainly isn’t Awa State Penitentiary.”

If Kija noticed anything, he didn’t allude to it or push the issue, for which Jae-ha was grateful. Perhaps he’d been too harsh or perhaps he’d come off as a dreamer with no greater agenda than to move forward and not look back — as long as he hadn’t come off as the fool running away from his past that he clearly was, it was alright. He didn’t need this boy to know his weaknesses.

“Have you heard the stories about this cliff?” Jae-ha asked instead, trying to change the subject and praying his cellmate would let him.

Kija simply shook his head.

“The Senjuso Cliff, they call it. I’ve heard quite a few interesting legends about it since I came to Awa,” Jae-ha told him. “Apparently, many years ago, before the prison was built on top of it, it was the most famous spot around here. The story goes that boys would jump off the cliff to prove their love for their maidens who were waiting for their victorious return.”

It was an old tale, almost like a legend, and one of the first he’d heard upon coming to Awa. He had to admit there was something oddly appealing about it, though he’d never call himself a romantic.

Kija looked at him with doubt. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I would never do that!” Jae-ha said but then thought better of it. “Alright, maybe but I’m not making this up. Since this tunnel cuts through the middle of the cliff you can’t really tell but it’s a monster of a rock. I’ve heard them call it the Mist-Shrouded Cape because apparently on most days you can’t even see the water from the top through all the mist.”

“It must be scary.”

Jae-ha smiled. “Certainly but there’s something oddly poetic in taking the plunge in the name of love. I like that sort of thing.”

They were sitting so close that their legs were touching; each gust of wind made the fabric of Kija’s trousers graze Jae-ha’s knee, sending jolts across his skin.

“I don’t understand why people jumped off a cliff for something like that,” Kija said then. “There are a thousand other ways to prove your love for someone and none of them require anything as reckless or as meaningless as this.”

“Is it really meaningless though?” the older boy asked. “I mean, sure, maybe it doesn’t prove anything in the kind of world we live in right now but imagine what that meant a couple of hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps,” Kija relented, though his expression didn’t relay any change of heart. “I would never do it.”

Of course he’d never. He certainly didn’t seem the type to throw away everything in the name of some reckless adventure, of some passionate fling that would end before the month was over — that was Jae-ha, not Kija. No, if Jae-ha was like fire, then Kija was like water. He wouldn’t see the point in doing stupid, reckless things in the name of something as fleeting as love. Perhaps Jae-ha didn’t see the point either but he was driven to it, he was pulled to stupid, reckless things the way he was pulled by gravity.

“Have you ever been in love?” Jae-ha asked him then, turning to stare at the ocean because he could not dare to look at his cellmate right now.

“Depends. If you believe that jumping off a cliff is the only way to prove your love, then I guess I was never in love with someone enough to want to do that.”

Jae-ha smiled. “Yeah, you seem more rational than romantic, that’s for sure.”

Kija flushed — the older boy could tell even without looking at him. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Had he indeed? He’d fooled himself into thinking he had been, sure; he’d lied to himself in hopes of learning how to fall in love but in the end, it had all been play-pretend. There was no way of answering that question without conjuring images from his past to mind. Over the years, he had become certain that his ability to fall in love had somehow been severed, that the kind of ‘love’ he knew was so wrong and twisted that real love would scare him away. Jae-ha wanted to believe that he would find it, eventually, but he wasn’t certain he would learn to embrace it even if he did.

“I don’t think I’m capable of that,” Jae-ha confessed. “I’ve played the love-struck fool, sure, but if falling in love is an ability, I think I’ve lost mine long ago.”

There was a moment of silence then and when Jae-ha turned to look at Kija, he found the boy looking at him with those big beautiful eyes. Jae-ha could swear he could see the whole ocean and all the stars clearly in them. Hell, he could probably see the entire universe if he looked closely enough.

“I don’t think it’s an ability. On the contrary, I think it’s something you’re completely unprepared for until it happens,” the boy said, his expression one of concentration.

Who could have expected this young boy to be saying things like that? Jae-ha certainly hadn’t. 

“When this is all over, what’s going to happen?” he asked but the real question he wanted an answer to was a different one. What’s going to happen to you, to me? To us?

“The mission, you mean?” Kija asked.

The older boy nodded because it was the only thing he could do.

“Well, we’ll have to time it right. Ideally, we’ll plan my extraction and your crew’s escape on the same day.”

Jae-ha’s heart was beating furiously. “And after that?”

The boy opened his mouth to say something but then closed it shut and stared blankly in the direction of the ocean. There was nothing after that, nothing that involved both of them ever having to cross paths again. And just like that, they had been just two people caught in passing. It was the answer Jae-ha had expected, certainly, and it was the only one the boy could give him, he knew. So why did the confirmation hidden in the silence hurt?

“What do you say we go back?” Jae-ha asked before the silence became unbearable. “Might as well get some sleep before dawn.”

Kija nodded. “Good idea, I don’t know what’s up with this place but my forehead has been feeling itchy for a while now.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock. You’re covered in spiderwebs.”

A look of utter horror passed across the boy’s features and settled like a shadow across his face. “D-did you say s-spiders?!”

“Yeah, the whole tunnel was crawling with them.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Kija all but screeched. “Jae-ha, please, take them off of me!”

Jae-ha laughed, though he nevertheless obeyed, carefully starting to remove the few webs that stretched like cotton puffs on top of his cellmate’s head. For the most part, Kija was silent, though he squirmed like a child whenever a web as much as brushed his shoulder — could have been the wind but no, Kija was convinced it was a spider on a quest to make his life a living hell. Jae-ha worked in silence, trying to contain the laughter that was bubbling out of him.

“Are you really a high-ranked detective?”

Kija scoffed. “Of course I am! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, for one, you’re more scared of a few bugs than the possibility that Kum-Ji might feed you to his piranhas.”

“I’m not afraid of Kum-Ji,” the boy said proudly. “It is these nasty, creepy little crawlies that are by far the most dangerous criminals of the country.”

The conversation had reached a point where Jae-ha couldn’t have possibly contained his laughter even if he’d tried. He didn’t even have to see Kija’s face to know that his cellmate was blushing the colour of dawn. 

“Turn with your back to me,” he instructed the boy, trying to catch the last of the spiderwebs that spun all the way to his shoulder blades. 

Even as he worked, Jae-ha’s eyes were completely glued to the boy’s scars. What an interesting guy, to have scars like that and yet be afraid only of bugs...

Unconsciously, Jae-ha’s fingers began tracing the jarred edges of the scars. Kija’s pale skin was smoother than silk underneath his touch and the edges of the scars felt like the rocky shores of the ocean. Like the Senjuso Cliff, they were perilous and Jae-ha wondered whether he’d be feeling nearly as much fear before diving from this cliff on the day of the escape as he was feeling now. He was afraid Kija was going to tell him to stop, was afraid because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

“How did you get those scars?” Jae-ha asked before he could stop himself. He bit his lip. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Something saying nothing was better and Jae-ha regretted letting his curiosity get the best of him. It always did but there were times when it cost him nothing and times when it cost him dearly. If Kija had trusted him enough to expose his back to him like that, he’d trusted him not to make a big deal out of it. But Jae-ha just had to go and destroy that bridge of trust, didn’t he?

Kija answered him anyway. “My father used to get angry a lot when I was younger. These are from his belt.”

Jae-ha felt like tiny shards had been sprinkled over an open wound. He felt angry and sad but mostly, he felt the same helplessness that he always did whenever he thought of the past. Nobody could change it; nothing could erase it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kija said with a light tone. “He was a troubled man, I don’t blame him anymore.”

How? Jae-ha wanted to ask because he needed to know — for himself. How do you forgive someone that’s hurt you so much? Instead, he asked something else, something he hadn’t known he’d been urging to ask since that night Kija had revealed himself to be an undercover agent.

Jae-ha rested his forehead against Kija’s back. “How the hell can you be so strong?”

And then it became unbearable. He traced the scars but rather than his fingers, he traced them with his lips. His mouth barely danced across the skin, only stopping to linger here and there. Human touch was so scarce in prison that even looking at Kija had been too much but now Jae-ha was starved for more of it. He knew he’d just made a mistake by opening Pandora’s box of all the desires he’d kept away during his stay in prison and especially the past week but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Jae-ha?”

Don’t tell me to stop, the older boy pleaded. Not now when his breath was hot on Kija’s cold skin. Not when he could hear the other boy’s uneven breathing. Not now, not ever.

“U-hm, let’s go back.”

Almost as if catching himself awake, Jae-ha pulled back sharply. The apology was already rushing out of him, though he himself wanted more and it surprised him just how much he had been holding back until now. He wasn’t certain when exactly he had started wanting this but of one he was certain. It had everything to do with a certain silver-haired, blue-eyed angel and Jae-ha just wasn’t prepared to receive that kind of ironic blow from fate just yet.

Neither of the boys said anything as they moved back through the tunnel, this time Jae-ha in the lead and Kija with his shirt back on — to the older boy’s greatest regret. They still had a few more hours until the first buzzer during which to try and steal away some precious sleep.

Jae-ha realised very soon, however, that falling asleep right now would be an impossible task. Tonight, he could only lay tired but wide-awake, staring up at the bottom of Kija’s bunk and desperately trying to control his breathing. He hadn't touched himself yet, was in fact struggling to ignore the urge in a way he hadn't bothered to since he'd first gotten here, but it was a battle he was already pretty sure he was going to lose. Part of him wanted to surrender and it was slowly overpowering his rationality.

The reason he was fighting it at all tonight had absolutely everything to do with the feeling of Kija’s smooth skin underneath his fingers — it both was and wasn't something he wanted to think about. Jae-ha felt conflicted at the idea of jerking off to mental images of his cellmate. There had to be something wrong with that, even if his mind was trying its best to convince him there wasn’t.

In prison, it was an unspoken rule that you pretended not to hear when your cellmate started moving in the middle of the night, when there were tiny noises coming from their bunk and soft creaks of the mattress from time to time. Jae-ha hadn’t had a cellmate until Kija but even he’d known the rule — he just didn’t know what to do now that he was in such a situation. He was also fairly certain that Kija was most likely going to become very much aware of what Jae-ha was about to do, if he didn’t already know by Jae-ha’s ragged breathing. 

So now Jae-ha was just lying there, his cock hard and aching for him to do something — anything really — about the current predicament. At this point, he’d never fall asleep and even the rational part of him told him that the quickest way to deal with it would have been to just deal with it, to let himself take care of it and get it over with as quietly as he could without disturbing the boy who would hopefully suspect nothing at all.

Letting himself embrace the point of no return, Jae-ha rubbed himself through his boxers first, biting his lip to keep a moan from escaping his lips. He was already so hard that it almost hurt but his body was rocking up into his hand and he could not fight it, could not control or try to stop it.

This wasn't going to be quite like the other times. Not when he could still feel Kija’s skin, feel the jarred edges of his scars underneath his lips.

The more he fought against images of Kija, the more strongly they came to him. He could imagine Kija trapped beneath his body, the young man’s fair skin flushed a deep pink from his cheeks to his ears and chest. Jae-ha could almost hear Kija’s tiny, choked-off moans in his mind, his gasps of pleasure. Or better yet, he could imagine that if he asked, Kija would take him instead. He looked strong and that heat in his eyes, it spelled trouble.

At this rate and with this new imagery, it was impossible to stop or slow down. Saints, it was impossible to even breathe. The images were so arousing that Jae-ha had to just lie there for a moment, his pants of restrained pleasure louder than before.

What the hell was he even doing? He knew Kija would hear him — that he was in fact already aware. But the truth was that right now, Jae-ha didn’t simply couldn’t force himself to care. It felt good and he imagined that continuing what he was doing would feel even better.

If he so much as shifted his fingers he was going to come, and Jae-ha had to clench his other fist into the bedsheet to keep himself from going crazy. He knew his attempt to muffle his groan in the pillow had failed spectacularly. He just knew it. At the same time, knowing that that beautiful, strong boy was listening to him, aware of every move he made, was doing some wonderful things to him. 

After a minute Jae-ha’s breath hitched once, then again, and he could feel the waves of pleasure rising like ocean waves to engulf him. Heat licked over his body as he came hard, his muscles unraveling and his breath seeping in desperate pants that scorched his throat and seared his lips. When the euphoria crashed over him and the knot of tension within him exploded, he bit his lips until he could feel the coppery taste of blood in his mouth — it was all he could do not to cry out.

There. Now, where was the shame?

But for now, at the very least, shame was nowhere to be found and regret was not making an appearance either. Odd.

After his ears had stopped ringing and he’d become aware of his surroundings again, Jae-ha drifted into a peaceful sleep, spent and warm. When morning came, Kija was the first to clean up, practically shooting out of the cell as soon as the doors unlocked but not before Jae-ha could see the blush across his face. Even then, the voice of shame was oddly silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Yeah, you read that right. No, you didn't imagine it - that indeed just happened. I felt that this chapter just kept on giving, you know; it was just a cute chapter overall, I feel like, and it was great fun writing it. Jae-ha being horny is literally the funniest thing ever - I was cracking up the whole time that I was writing and editing this. All that aside though, the moments Jae-ha and Kija shared at the edge of the tunnel were just precious
> 
> Can I just say, you all need to buckle up because the chapters from now on are getting intense - and I mean, intense. Chapter 9 is just a build-up but after that we're entering a very different part of the story and I'm not going easy on anybody's feelings, haha. Anyways, Chapter 9 comes out next Monday so stay tuned! Have a lovely week! <3


	9. Before the Storm Hits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! As always, thank you for keeping up with the story and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments — I love reading about your thoughts and predictions!
> 
> (GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE WARNING)

—Kija—

Kija had known he was gay for a few years now. He’d known since his very first day in the Academy accommodations, when the rest of the agents-in-training had been complaining about how far away the girls’ dorms had been from theirs but poor Kija’s brain hadn’t even been able to phantom why that could be a problem. Why would he want to play football shirtless when it was borderline freezing outside to impress girls who may or may not accidentally look his way? Why would he want to have lunch with the guys at Starbucks because the girls liked to hang out there when he could meal-prep the day before? Such motives were beyond Kija’s line of understanding.

Admittedly, it had taken him considerably longer to connect the dots and understand that he was, in fact, gay. To be precise, it had taken one jealous Hak confronting him after class as to why he and Yona were spending so much time together for Kija to come out by shouting it in the poor boy’s face. To his credit, Hak had taken it well. Kija, on the other hand, hadn’t — he’d had an identity crisis after that.

In a moment of utter panic — a moment that had lasted for two weeks, to be exact — he had avoided the truth like one would avoid the plague. He’d buried his nose in books on Criminology and spent his days in the library, researching case studies on criminal types. The first time a cute guy had sat across from him, Kija had nearly fled from his seat. It must have been an odd thought spurred on by his current confusion, it would pass — or so he’d told himself but then he’d seen another cute guy on the queue for coffee and another one later that day. And Kija had just relented to his fate.

Yona had said he should be whoever it feels right to be but Yona hadn’t known how conservative his upbringing had been, hadn’t known that his father condemned the thought of Kija being anything less than what he imagined his son to be. At times, it had felt that his life had already been predecided, prescripted, like it had already ended before it had even begun.

Living in the Academy dorms instead of at home with his family made it easier. He’d accepted the fact that he’d never tell his family — not his mother who’d be afraid for him because of what his father could do, not his granny who was always pressuring him to get married to a sweet girl who’d cook for him, and certainly not his father who’d disown him or worse. In fact, he couldn’t even imagine what his father would do. Whenever he was visiting home, Kija would sweat and squirm — would they find out? Almost as if he was wearing a T-shirt with the bold label ‘I Am Gay’, he felt as though it would be written on his forehead for his father to read at even the briefest of glances.

“So, Kija dear,” his granny had said once, during tea time after Kija had returned for the holidays, “when are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?”

And Kija had just gone red and stammered his way through the usual excuses. “I don’t have a girlfriend, granny.”

“Don’t think just because I’m old, I can’t see the hickeys you’re trying to hide,” she’d said behind her cup of tea, causing poor Kija to pull up his turtle neck as high as he could.

“How shameful,” his father had chipped in, somehow having overheard the conversation. 

Oh, if only he had any idea what Kija had done the night before his train home, or what had been done to him. 

Kija didn’t use to think he had a type. His first crush had been sweet and shy and the boy that had eventually carved his way into Kija’s life had been the stark opposite, loud and bold and all kinds of trouble. That boy had said it was alright even when Kija had explained he could never let his family know. He’d been there to comfort him when Kija had gotten the phone call about the car-crash, crying tears of grief at the loss of his mother and tears of some odd regret at that of his father. He’d been ready to give it his all even when Kija’s heart hadn’t been able to commit after joining the Bureau.

Then, Kija had met Jae-ha and he’d realised he indeed had a type. It wasn’t a surprise to him that he’d fallen prey to Jae-ha’s charms — after all, the older boy was loud and bold and all kinds of trouble. The type that apparently, Kija held a weakness for; the type whose attention he himself attracted. A smile was all it took, one with the intensity to match the brightness of the sun, and Kija would feel his heart hitch. He’d fought the thoughts, those obstructive thoughts that seemed to deviate from all of his plans, but when he’d felt Jae-ha’s lips on his skin, Kija’s defences had fallen the same way the wall to the tunnels had collapsed under the force of one well-timed swing of the hammer. 

Kija had heard him that night, too. Heard him so clearly in his head still, long after he’d finished, that he refused to — absolutely, totally, without a doubt refused to — look him in the eye. 

Perhaps he was too ashamed at the thought of what Jae-ha’s touch had done to him that night, what the older boy’s moans had done to him after, too. At this point, Kija was certain he had a constant blush of crimson across his face whenever he so much as thought of his cellmate. 

Hence, the only possible solution was for Kija to ignore Jae-ha the very same way that the detective persisted to ignore the fact that last night had happened at all. After all, denial was Kija’s best way of dealing with his personal problems. He was too good at it for comfort.

After the first buzzer, Kija had made sure to leave the cell as quickly as he physically could, even if that had meant being out on the row at the same time as the rest of the inmates and getting lost in the waves of prisoners pushing to reach the canteen. Kija wasn’t certain whether Jae-ha would choose to spend the morning in the canteen or out in the court so he decided to play it safe by going to neither, instead choosing to head to the games room.

Perhaps he was being unfair; perhaps the older boy would take it the wrong way, assume Kija was wary of him or even worse, disgusted. Even so, Kija could not bring himself to do anything about it or even explain his sudden change of attitude. Distance is what Kija needed and if that was the case, then distance he would have.

Such thoughts troubled him as the boy rounded the corner at the end of cellblock A and proceeded to the hallway leading to the entertainment room. Not to be confused with real entertainment, the games room provided as limited a distraction as Kija would imagine from a prison. The only entertainment were the games of shogi, mahjong, and chess, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He’d never seen this particular hallway deserted before — perhaps the games room wasn’t even open this early into the day; he’d only ever been here around evening time. He couldn’t have known, as the corridor ran behind the cellblock and was thus cut off from the rest of the prison’s view. Now that he was here, however, he could see no guards patrolling the corridor, meaning the games room was indeed closed. Kija secretly dreaded having to go back to the main section of the prison where he might have a rather awkward run-in with his cellmate.

As he was about to turn back, having reached the end of the corridor, Kija heard the familiar clip of prison-issued sneakers echo behind him. The sound of at least four pairs of footsteps carried across the silent hallway like thunderclap against an otherwise silent night.

“What’s the rush, sugar?” said an eerily familiar voice behind him. “Come say hi.”

With a certain sense of dread, Kija turned around to see five men emerge from the other end of the corridor, blocking his way back into the rest of the prison. The man with the scar across his forehead, the one who Jae-ha had humiliated a week or so ago, was the one who’d spoken out to him. His presence, at a place like this, could only spell trouble and Kija regretted his choice to walk a deserted hallway almost immediately.

Hiyou’s goons were trailing behind him, as per usual, and Kija could just bet Hiyou was feeling mighty again, was feeling that he could take the boy on because it was five against one and Jae-ha wasn’t here to save him. That fiend could guess again.

“Didn’t know we were on speaking terms,” Kija said, testing the waters. Perhaps he could still resolve this without conflict, though he wasn’t sure whether he was in the mood to be a peacemaker today. He had far too much energy bottled-up inside of him.

“We ain’t,” Hiyou replied, “but if that pretty cellmate of yours hadn’t interfered, we coulda been.”

The boy tried not to get his thoughts tangled up in the connotations of the words “pretty cellmate” and what they brought to mind. “I‘m afraid he really did speak my mind when he said I wouldn’t be interested in your offer.”

Hiyou smiled and Kija’s earlier resolution to attempt a peaceful approach crumbled like dust. Warily, the boy eyed the closest door behind him, which was the entrance to the block-A showers, though he knew it would be useless to try and run there, as the room had only one exit and he’d be trapped. Kija watched as one of Hiyou’s goons nevertheless went to block the door.

“You see, what Jae-ha did was very impolite,” Hiyou said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Did he hurt your feelings, perhaps?” Kija asked back and immediately cringed at the sudden realisation that he was picking up on Jae-ha’s sarcasm. The Kija who’d first come to Awa State Penitentiary would have never said such an audacious thing, especially not when confronted by five men in a deserted hallway.

Hiyou, to no one’s surprise, didn’t appreciate the question. “I thought of ways to punish him for what he did and do you know what I came to realise?”

That his eyes actually seemed purple instead of blue under artificial lighting? Kija shook his head.

“That he seems to care a great deal about his new cellie,” Hiyou said, eager to go on with his great tirade. “Makes us wonder why he’s stopping all the other gangs from giving you a proper introduction to the ways of prison life, doesn’t it, boys?”

The goons hummed in agreement, sending shivers down Kija’s spine. Vaguely, he wondered whether Jae-ha hadn’t indeed been watching his back this whole time, making sure no one gave him a difficult time. Before he’d come to prison, Kija had expected trouble, had expected fights and conflicts but there had been none. Had that been Jae-ha’s doing? Or had it been Kum-Ji’s, the mafia lord whose trust Kija had somehow managed to win over?

“So we thought, what better way to punish him than to put a shank in his pretty little cellie, isn’t that right, boys?”

This time, instead of a hum, there was silence, broken only by a metal clink as one of the goons let a folded knife spring open. To a certain cold-blooded extent, Kija had to agree that their plan was indeed a solid one: if you can’t hurt someone, hurt what they want to protect. It was criminal logic 101, it was so predictable that it was almost boring.

But now that Kija himself was the one who they were aiming to hurt, was it any different? He didn’t feel fear — should he? Surely not, not when he was on par with Hak’s fighting skills. Not when was itching for some action. Ever since he’d started talking to Kum-Ji, about human-trafficking and destroying people’s lives, Kija had been buzzing for some justice, for a way to release all the anger he held for such fiends.

“So your plan is to cut me up, is that it?” Kija asked innocently, though he remained nonplussed about the whole ordeal.

Between having to face Jae-ha after last night’s events and having to fend off a couple of goons, Kija would pick the latter any time. These confrontations were easier than having to deal with whatever feelings Jae-ha would bring him this time.

Hiyou smiled. “Only if you struggle.”

Kija wanted to laugh — if they had even the faintest of clues as to who he was and what he did for a living, they’d have packed more than just a few shivs. Only three of the men had knives, Hiyou and two other goons, one of which was directly behind Kija. He’d have to go first, the agent decided. Having to watch his back would be bothersome so he’d take out that guy first, throw a backward kick and drill the heel of his foot in the man’s gut, for good measure. Then he’d swing for the man closest to him — a goon who’d assumed brass knuckles would be enough to bring someone like Kija down but had clearly thought too highly of himself. You didn’t bring brass knuckles to a fight against a trained agent. That man wouldn’t stand a chance, his fists would never make connect with Kija’s skin because he’d be toppling down from a kick to the shins.

Who wanted to go next after that? The guy on Kija’s left was smiling — he was practically begging for it. Even though he was grinning, it was a fool’s smile — he was holding the knife as though it had been a long time since he’d last held one; hopefully, his reactions were just as rusty. After that, the guy on the far right would be next, the one with the missing front tooth. He’d go down on his knees, with a kick to the gut and an uppercut to the jaw.

And finally, there’d be Hiyou. His excitement betrayed him far too much, Kija could see already. His eyes were telling too much, were eager to give away his moves before he’d even formulated them himself. Just like Kija saw him coming now, he’d see him coming then, when it was time for him to learn that Kija didn’t need Jae-ha’s protection. Or anybody else’s.

“Then let us not waste any more time,” Kija said, his mind slipping into the battle-mode drilled into him by none other than Chief Mun-Dok himself. “I heard there’s freshly-made goo for breakfast and I’d hate to miss it.”

Hiyou’s eyes darted to Kija’s left foot and then the game was on.

The boy danced away from the upcoming slash of Hiyou’s shiv, kicking backwards and landing a hit to the gut of the goon behind him. Kija didn’t need to turn around to check the situation because he heard the man’s knife clatter to the ground. Heard the man drop to the floor. Heard his hiss of pain. Good, he’d better stay down.

“What are y’all waiting for?” Hiyou bellowed at his men.

Then came utter chaos. Arms reached for Kija, grabbing fistfuls of his jumpsuit, tearing at the fabric. Darts of shadows sprang from his left, his right. There was a moment when everyone was reaching for a piece of him. Like vultures pecking at a carcass.

But Kija was still very much alive and he was only just getting started.

The agent spun, clipping Mr Brass Knuckles’ ankles so that the man was tumbling down until he’d hit the floor. Until there was a sickening thud as his knees crashed against the tiles. With another spin, Kija thrust his elbow into Mr Smiles’ face, though the poor guy hadn’t stood a chance, hadn’t even noticed the incoming punch. He should have polished his reaction time before going into a fight against someone like Kija. It was too late for him now, too late for all of them.

Then came Mr Missing Tooth, charging like a rhino, though he had no weapon to intimidate Kija with. The boy landed a kick to his gut and followed it with a jab to the jaw — not quite the uppercut he’d planned but it’d have to make do. The man clutched his side with one arm but looked ready to keep going. Won’t you just go down? But then he finally did, after another kick, this time to the chin, and Kija heard the crackle of the man’s jaw snapping closed, his teeth rattling.

Kija felt the air behind him split as someone charged in from his blindside. A pair of arms seized him from behind, catching him by surprise in a tackle that left him exposed to the incoming punches. Mr Brass Knuckles was back in the game and he was pulling an arm back to swing for Kija’s stomach.

Just then, the intercom pitched in, announcing who-knows-what, and Kija heard it like a blaring siren. He’d already lost all hope that someone would hear the scuffle, that someone would come help. Even if they did, wouldn’t they just stand and watch anyway? Place bets against his favour? But the intercom had bought Kija time — Mr Knuckles had become distracted, he’d stopped to listen if it wasn’t the emergency siren of a sector disturbance.

Kija trashed in his attacker’s arms, using the momentum to whip his head back. He felt the blow connect with the attacker’s face as Kija himself felt the whiplash from the impact. The corridor was momentarily replaced by dancing stars, as though the same ones plucked from last night’s sky and sprinkled in his vision. The man’s grip loosened and Kija thought he’d won, that he was going for the easy victory now. But as the stars dispersed and the hallway swam back into view, he felt himself dizzy, felt the floor rush to him as he lost purchase and fell. He saw the shadows move, towards him. All of them, all the silhouettes coming closer.

By some primal instinct that his brain could not formulate into a coherent thought, Kija lifted his right arm to shield his face and felt something cold slide across it, like a knife through melted butter. He felt the sharp ting of pain, felt the grit of his bones as the blade they’d struck him with slid right through flesh and muscle. 

A hand went around Kija’s mouth to muffle his scream but even so, the sound that escaped was something so broken and animal in nature that Kija could not believe it had come from him. It had been torn from his throat, had been carved from there, and was not human in any way. He’d heard it as though it hadn’t been him that had screamed but someone else. Some_thing_ else.

Kija heard the shiv they’d cut him with clatter to the tiles. In a moment of desperation, he threw himself forward, slipping it into his sleeve before the goons could notice. He’d use it — wisely, only once his fists had stopped working.

In the next moment, he felt himself getting lifted, dragged across the floor. They weren’t in the hallway anymore but the boy’s vision was littered with spots and he couldn’t see where they were going. He trashed but then they seized his legs, too. When the gang finally released him, they dropped him on the ice-cold floor of the empty showers.

Kija tasted the coppery tang of blood splash across his tongue and he realised he’d bit right into it. As Kija looked down at his injured arm, he felt sick. There was so much blood already, and a messy-looking cut, the flesh raw and jarred, and blotchy. There was a crimson handprint on the floor from where he’d placed his hand for support and he felt his right arm weaker than it’d ever been. It shook beneath his weight, unable to support him.

It could have been worse, he tried to convince himself. It could have been something vital. At that moment, the pain was sharp but the need to keep fighting was even sharper.

“We said we’d cut you up if you struggled,” Hiyou said, crouching in front of him, “didn’t we, boys?”

The goons hummed in agreement again and the sound was the most ridiculous thing Kija had ever had to hear in his entire life.

“And boy, must I tell you — I like how you struggle.” There was that creepy smile too. “Shame we had to resort to such violence but you can blame your pretty cellmate for that.”

Perhaps to someone like Hiyou it looked like he had won. But what that man could not possibly have seen was the look in Kija’s eyes as his gaze landed on the emergency switch on the other side of the room. One button, five armed men standing in Kija’s way of getting to it. Perhaps he’d never make it. Or perhaps he would — he still had that knife hidden in his sleeve.

The boy tried to summon every ounce of Hak’s battle spirit, every bit of Jae-ha’s boldness. “Shame he didn’t leave you another scar to add to the collection.”

Hiyou leaned forward even further. “Maybe I should leave you one?”

There was only one way to shift the scales in his favour, even for a moment, and Kija would have to make it worth it. He pulled his unharmed arm to his stomach, where he tried to shift the blade in his sleeve. He felt the tip of the shiv against his fingers, felt it dig into his skin and draw blood but he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. He simply gritted his teeth together, on the ready. 

“Let me do the honours,” Kija said as he pulled the shiv and swung.

With the momentum of Kija’s upward swing, the blade dragged across Hiyou’s forehead and tore at the flesh. Blood began pouring immediately, down the man’s face like a crimson curtain, but not before Kija could see the perfect cross that the new cut had created in combination with the old scar.

Hiyou screamed. He screamed like Kija had heard no one else scream in his life. It was blood-curling, it was desperate, it was painful to even listen to. Most of all, it bought Kija the moment he’d been waiting for.

The agent sprang forward and tore into a run, even as the rest of the men all threatened to swarm on him, each ready to do more than just cut him up at this point. If they caught him now, he would be done for. They’d just toss the chunks of what’d be left of him in Jae-ha’s cell — he’d get the message. Kija could see the men reach for him but he could also see that button, that last straw which was his only ticket out of this mess, and it was getting closer. Kija jumped off one of the benches and slammed his fist down on it, as hard as he could. Desperation ran deep in him now, so deep that his heart was in his throat, afraid to make even a single beat despite the physical strain.

For a terrible moment, nothing happened. Time had come to a stop as Kija’s mind replayed that one piece of information he’d been counting on: first emergency signal, sector disturbance; second signal, prison-wide disturbance. There should be an alarm, there should be guards rushing in.

And then, just as the goons descended upon him, the alarm overhead finally rang out, loud and clear.

Kija held the shiv at the ready but no blows came his way, no fists connected. There was no pain, no blood pouring down. The men were trying to flee the scene before any of the guards rushed in with their batons and zap-guns, and if Kija had been in any state to think rationally, he would have been doing the same.

“What are you doing?” Hiyou was howling at his men, though he lay on the ground, clutching his forehead. “Finish him!”

With some reluctance, Kija tried to let the shiv fall to the ground. His fingers were numb to the bone and turned to stone, still gripping the blade as a shipwreck survivor would grip the only rope capable of pulling them back to safety. His knuckles were white; both arms now shook uncontrollably.

As he stood there, trying to regain his breathing under the blaring of the alarm, the only thought going through his mind was that this was what he’d expected prison to be like. Violence, blood, and danger.

The double-doors flew open then, and two guards rushed in. Behind them, Kija could see Hiyou’s men on the ground, their faces pressed on the blood-slick tiles of the hallway Kija had been dragged across what seemed like ages ago. Had it even happened? Was any of this happening or was it all in his head? Had the events of last night made him go mad?

But as agent Shin-ah stepped into view, his eyes immediately darting to Kija’s injured arm, the boy could tell it was real. To a certain extent, he was glad to know he hadn’t gone completely insane.  
From there, it was all a blur as Kija felt his legs buckle a bit, though he kept himself upright by focusing on the emerging pain that had finally broken through the adrenaline’s hold. Somewhere on his right, he could hear the distorted wails of Hiyou as the guard yelled and slammed his baton on the floor next to him. Words like ‘isolation’ and ‘sector disturbance’ were getting thrown around but Kija couldn’t quite join them into a coherent sentence, couldn’t grasp the string of meaning behind the conversations happening around him. He was only vaguely aware of agent Shin-ah examining his wound. 

“He needs stitches,” Shin-ah was saying to the other guard but the ringing in Kija’s ears was threatening to drown out his words. “I’ll take him to the infirmary.”

The boy let Shin-ah lead the way, his legs moving slowly, as though he was wading through waist-deep waters. 

“Come on,” Shin-ah said, as they rounded one of the corners and the agent scanned his card to lead them through the block without having to enter the main prison area. “Yoon will take care of the wound.”

“Yoon?” Kija asked, his mind foggy.

The agent nodded. “You’re leaving the Penitentiary.”

Kija ran the sentence in his mind a few times, trying to piece together the words and their meaning, when the reality of the situation finally hit him like an oncoming train. 

“No, not now!” he said, coming to a stand-still. “Look, it was just a scuffle and it’s fine now. You can’t pull the plug because of this, we always knew something like that could happen. We agreed.”

Shin-ah shook his head and beckoned him forward. “Didn’t you hear the intercom?”

Kija had been a bit too preoccupied fending off Hiyou’s men at the time. “Why?”

“Agent Hak is here to get you. You’re being released.”

Released? Was this some sort of a joke that the universe was playing on him? He couldn’t be getting released now. Wouldn’t Kum-Ji suspect something was wrong if his new-found business partner suddenly up and disappeared after planning the deal of the century? And what would happen to Jae-ha and his crew’s escape plan? Kum-Ji could order his men to pounce on him at any moment; he needed to take the crew and run now but he’d be waiting for Kija, who’d be sitting safely outside the prison walls. He needed to know; it was the least that the boy could offer him.

Kija simply stared at his teammate. “Why now? The raid is not happening until later this week, I don’t understand.”

Shin-ah’s face was unreadable as he spoke the next words but in them, Kija felt his whole world begin to collapse onto itself. “Kum-Ji’s men got wind of the raid and started packing. We are still unable to find who leaked the information to them.”

No, it couldn’t be. “But—”

“I’m sorry, we had no other choice.”

“What do you mean you had no choice?” the boy stammered. “What did you do?”

“The team was forced to go in, Kija. The raid has already started,” agent Shin-ah said. “And if you stay here any longer, Kum-Ji is going to make sure you don’t come out alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I didn't want to see our precious Kija getting hurt either but I was possessed by those writer goblins again and they made me do it. Honestly, sometimes I read back on stuff I've written and I just go: "How could I do something so terrible to someone?" But hey ho, writers gotta be merciless, you feel me.
> 
> We've officially entered a new arch of the story and it's gonna be intense. So buckle up, make yourself some comforting hot chocolate (or a strong cuppa if you too live in the cold land of the UK), and let's pray for our boys' safety because there's a storm coming.
> 
> See you next Mon-Tue for Chapter 10, this time from Jae-ha's POV as the storm hits! :)


	10. At Someone Else’s Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! An immense thank you for reading so far (we're halfway through, wow, there's so much to go)! I'm so surprised by the amount of encouraging comments and support this fic has received, I never expected more than twenty people to read it so thank you so much, everyone! <3
> 
> As always, enjoy the new chapter and let me know what your thoughts are in the comments! :)

—Jae-ha—

Did Jae-ha regret anything about last night? No, he most definitely did not — Jae-ha was a man who lived without regrets, he liked his life and he quite enjoyed the occasional twist of fate that he couldn’t have predicted. Did he regret anything after seeing the way his cellmate had stormed out of their cell in the morning, clearly eager to get away from him? No, he didn’t but it twisted something in his chest and made his stomach churn. A bit, just enough to notice but not enough to admit. 

He’d wanted to ask how long they had together, even though there had never been a ‘together’, as far as anything outside of Jae-ha’s fantasies was concerned. How long they had until Kija’s extraction, if anything. He’d wanted to ask what the detective’s everyday life was like, what he did in his free time, hell, even what kind of books he read.

Anything, anything at all, as long as Jae-ha could pretend they were out of prison and that there was space in Kija’s perfect life for him.

Last night, at the edge of the tunnel, Jae-ha had thought he could just ask all of those things tomorrow, that they’d have more nights like this, where they talked about their lives and tried to paint each other in them, though it was painfully obvious Kija didn’t belong in a criminal’s heists and Jae-ha had no room in a detective’s life.

Still, the older boy had thought they’d at least try to pretend. Because what else did they have going for them? By all standards, they’d be strangers come next week. He’d thought they might talk as though the world was about to end and secrets were pointless to hide — and was their world not going to end soon after all, the only world they existed in together?

It had all gone to the gutter now, Jae-ha thought in calm surrender. He didn’t want to think how that was partly his own doing — the other part attributed to the temptation that radiated off Kija and which Jae-ha was indeed petty enough to blame on the boy. After all, it took two to play a game and if Kija hadn’t given him so many mixed signals that were left to the older boy’s own interpretation, Jae-ha’s imagination wouldn’t have roamed so far and wide.

Jae-ha resigned to his fate and went to shuffling around the cell, going about his business with the casual manner of a man who knew he’d fucked up but was too proud to admit it.

He was still buzzing around the small space when, a few minutes later, there was a knock on the cell’s bars. Jae-ha turned around to find Maya by the door, smiling at him as if he was here to tell him they were being released from prison. Which, of course, wasn’t going to happen within the next four-five years unless Jae-ha was to bust them out.

“Why are you still in your cell?” his friend asked. “Rowen thought they might’ve shanked you or something.”

“Oh please, as if anyone can throw a knife faster than I can dodge it,” Jae-ha said, as he turned to the small basin to splash water on his face. “Just had a late start is all.”

“Well, hurry it up, the guards said we’re allowed on the court again!” his friend exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a labrador. He’d been unabashedly grumpy ever since the sand storm had blown in and sent heaps of sand across the court. It had taken the PI-crew much longer to clean the place than Maya had had the ability to endure.

Jae-ha was not in the mood today. “You can start the game without me.”

As if on cue, the smile on Maya’s face twisted into a frown. “If you’re being like this already, I’ll just put you on Rowen’s team.”

“I’d rather not get my teeth knocked out, thanks.”

“Then be out in five,” the boy said, pointing his finger at him warningly. “Or Rowen will give you a run for your money.”

Jae-ha grunted against the running water, taking the time to rinse his mouth from the burn of the peppermint toothpaste before he spoke, “Show your seniors some mercy, kid.”

“You don’t deserve any.”

The older boy was about to protest but seeing as Maya looked fed up with him already, Jae-ha agreed that he’d indeed be there. 

“By the way,” Jae-ha said as his friend was about to leave. “Have you seen—”

The boy stopped himself mid-sentence, mid-thought even, as though catching himself in the middle of a bad habit. Have you seen Kija, was that what he’d been about to ask? Was the next question to leave his lips going to be if he’d looked angry, if he’d said anything? Please, what a joke. Even after trying to convince himself that last night hadn’t affected him, was he truly this desperate, was he really acting like a teenager with a silly crush?

“Seen what?” Maya asked, puzzled by the older boy’s sudden transformation into a stone statue.

Suddenly, the intercom buzzed. It was a high-pitched sound, one that grated the ears and left a ringing that stretched like an echo for a few seconds. Jae-ha was glad for the interruption, though his friend appeared to be less so, judging from the colourful curses he muttered at the source of the sound.

“Inmate 1408, proceed to the visitation centre,” the intercom announced in that same distorted robotic voice that made Jae-ha’s ears sting and his teeth grit.

This time, the intercom was calling for Kija — Jae-ha wished he didn’t know that the boy’s prison number was 1408 or that his visitor would most likely be another agent. But he knew all the little details, had collected and committed them to memory the way a dying man would set off to relive his greatest joys before his joruney would come to an end.

Maya was still looking at the older boy expectantly and Jae-ha wished he wouldn’t press further because he didn’t like lying to the people closest to him.

He turned around to throw the towel on his bunk’s metal frame and gestured to the first thing in his general line of sight, which happened to be a spare prison-issued shirt atop his bed. “Nevermind, I found it.”

“Some of these days you’re going to lose your own head, I swear.”

The older boy flashed his friend a wide grin. “Well, it’s a good thing it’s right on my shoulders then.”

Maya disappeared from the front of the cell without another word, though Jae-ha caught him shaking his head, as one usually did when having to listen to Jae-ha’s antiques.

Deciding to join the crew for a game after all, Jae-ha followed behind. He was about to head out into the row as he heard the intercom’s shrill again, with the same message for inmate 1408. That was odd in a way that told Jae-ha that something wasn’t quite as usual, because normally prisoners were eager to go to the visitation centre and Kija was usually already at the gate by the end of the very first message. Jae-ha had only ever heard the message repeated once, when some guy named Kazama hadn’t heard it the first time because another inmate had cut off his ear in a scuffle a few weeks prior. 

Curious more than anything, Jae-ha decided to investigate out into the row, where he leaned with his elbows against the railing.

One floor below him, the main deck was still brimming with inmates, as it usually was in the first hour before breakfast was served. The day had started in Awa State Penitentiary and not so unlike the infamous Saika Stock Exchange, the floor was buzzing with eager traders of secrets overheard the night before and brokers of cigarettes and cell-made shanks for other commodities. There was no Kija in sight, not by the gates, nor amidst the crowd — Jae-ha would have recognised that silver mop of hair from a mile away.

For the third time now, the intercom pitched in, and again, there was no sign of the boy. Something in Jae-ha’s stomach twisted again, coiling. Something wasn’t quite right and if he hadn’t been entirely certain before, he knew now.

Guards were leaving their posts at this point, all except good old Majima, who didn’t care much for anything and was not going to suddenly start giving a damn why some inmate didn’t want to go to visitation. Of all the guards that began moving, it was the boy with blue-hair that Jae-ha recognised and trailed his eyes on. The boy, the one that Kija had told Jae-ha was an undercover agent, was at present pushing inmates aside and if the worry in his expression was enough of an indicator to the situation, Jae-ha reckoned that his favourite detective might be in bigger trouble than he had originally suspected.

But where could that blasted boy possibly be? Jae-ha cursed under his breath. The one time he’d leave that boy out of his sight would be the time that something would go wrong. Fate worked in mysterious ways and never in his favour, as it would seem.

When the intercom clicked once again, it wasn’t the same announcement that came through. This time, there was a blare, a siren that Jae-ha had never heard before and which made the hairs on the back of his head stand on end.

“Attention: sector disturbance at cell-block A,” the intercom announced, as Jae-ha listened intently. “Attention: sector disturbance at cell-block A.”

Sector disturbance? The boy looked down at the mass of inmates on the ground floor — he was staring right at cell-block A, where there was currently no sector disturbance, no sign of even as much as a scuffle or a fight. The prisoners were looking around for the source of the supposed disturbance, all heads turning to different directions. But there was nothing, not even a sound to indicate a fight had broken out.

With the corner of his eye, Jae-ha saw a patch of blue move. As he turned to follow the source, he noticed several guards running to the empty hallway behind cellblock A, where the showers for the downstairs where, while others stayed behind to ensure no inmates could interfere. It was the sight of the batons, pointed and at the ready, that made Jae-ha’s blood freeze over. 

It was clear as day that there was a greater problem at work here. First, Kija hadn’t shown up to visitation. Now, there was a sector disturbance. Only a fool could overlook the connection and Awa State Penitentiary harboured no fools, only men with instincts sharper than steel.

Jae-ha extricated himself from the railing, his heart beating fast, faster still as he reached the stairs. 

He was already coming down to the ground floor when he saw them, saw them look at him, take a few steps towards him. Jae-ha watched as one of Kum-Ji’s men drew something from the inside of his jumpsuit, watched as another man cut through the crowd to reach him. The boy stilled as he was about to take the last step down. He saw now what he had been missing from the whole equation but even so, he should have known better, should have seen it — them — coming.

Initially, Jae-ha hadn’t wanted to tell Kija but things had been getting sour. Jae-ha could feel eyes on him — Kum-Ji’s men had started popping up in places close to him. He felt as though if he as much as turned his back to any of them, they would pounce on him. But of course, he couldn’t have told that to Kija, who would worry needlessly and blame himself somehow, try to fix the situation and possibly make it worse for himself. No, Jae-ha hadn’t said anything, not even about the hit list, about his own name being there.

The boy had thought there would be time. He’d assumed that if they were to escape later that week, he’d have enough time before they pounced on him, that his escape would cut their plans short.

Clearly, however, something had changed. Because Kum-Ji’s men were here, at least five of them, and if Jae-ha so much as took one more step, he wouldn’t be leaving with his life.

But Jae-ha liked to challenge his luck — he smiled at the closest of Kum-Ji’s men as he took the last step and arrived at the ground floor. Admittedly, the boy hadn’t expected a fight today but he’d still prepared for one. He would have never made a good criminal if he didn’t carry at least two knives in each sleeve; in his case, there was even one stashed in his shoe. Better be prepared than sorry. After all, no one in the crowd would come to his aid, no one in the entire world would dare stand in death’s path.

If he drew first blood, what good would that do him? He could swing and the first man would fall so silently that even the crowd won’t notice. Not at first. But the rest of the men would; they would come for him and then what? It was quite simple really: then, he’d surely be dead.

And if he waited for them to come to him? Was that any better, waiting for your life to be taken away from you without lifting a finger to defend it?

Yet, oddly still, his fate wasn’t the one Jae-ha was most concerned with. There was only one coherent thought amidst the pool of disjointed words: where was Kija? Where was that boy with the perfect smile and the perfect life that Jae-ha so wished to be a part of? What were they doing to him and was he even alive at this point? Why hadn’t Jae-ha chased after him and could he ever see him again?

The thought of Kija fending for his life as Jae-ha paced in their cell made him sick. But the thought that he couldn’t do anything now, that he couldn’t get to him at all, was worse. It was so, so much worse, was like daggers piercing his heart, like beasts ripping him apart. 

Jae-ha felt the air so coiled up with tension that if gravity was a string, one move and it’d snap. The crowd was oblivious to sparks as the air buzzed with a force akin to electricity. Perhaps there wasn’t anything like that; perhaps it was all in Jae-ha’s head but at that moment, as that same electricity he sensed started to sing, he was able to feel, rather than see or hear, as one of Kum-Ji’s men closed in on him from his blindside.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the boy asked with a warning in his voice and a knife at the ready, twirling between his knuckles.

“Easy there,” said another man as he made his way to Jae-ha and came to stand in front of him. “We’re not here for a fight.”

Oh really? With doubt, Jae-ha eyed the daggers that they were all holding — it was somehow infinitely more daunting that those were not some prison-made shanks, usually pieces of sharpened glass or bits of jarred metal; no, these were proper daggers that had been snuck in here, who knows how and through how many bribes. 

“So what do we call this, a friendly scuffle between old pals?” he mocked.

“A formality,” the same man said then. “Don’t be difficult and follow us. Kum-Ji would like a word with you.”

‘Don’t be difficult’ was perhaps the greatest sentence he’d heard anyone utter to him. Honey, Jae-ha thought, I’m always difficult. If anyone dared think Jae-ha would go down without a fight, they’d lost already.

“Would he know?” he smiled. “He shouldn’t have troubled you. Could have just sent a card.”

“Consider this your formal invitation,” one of the goons sneered, doing a small wave with his knife.

The boy had never lied to himself that his death by the hands of Kum-Ji’s men would be quick and painless. In fact, he’d imagined that it’d be quite the opposite, that if pain was a spectrum, he’d be forced to taste every colour across the wheel. To think that Kum-Ji would like “a word” with him was absurd and Jae-ha instantly assumed that the twisted fucker would like to see him tortured first-hand. Perhaps he’d want to do the torturing himself? What an honour, Jae-ha thought with more sarcasm than fear.

He cast a bored look at the dagger. “I feel honoured but I’m afraid I’ve got a basketball game to attend and I’m already late.”

“Want to hurry off to your little friends?” the same goon asked, laughing. “They won’t be alive by the time you get to them.”

Jae-ha moved first, rage manifesting in spots that clouded his vision and a sudden urge to draw first blood. He’d fallen right in their trap, he knew it before he even pulled out his knife, but if there was one thing Jae-ha could not guard himself against, it was a petty provocation. As soon as he pulled out the knife and raised it to the goon’s neck, he felt pressure against his own ribs. Another goon’s shank was digging into his side uncomfortably and Jae-ha had to blink away the white spots of rage that clouded his vision.

“Follow us,” the man in front of him said again. “I’m not going to repeat myself a third time.”

Knowing that his friends’ lives were on the line, Jae-ha felt defeated and the fight hadn’t even started yet. There was only one thing left to say and he relented to it: “Lead the way.”

Before they led him away from cell-block A and towards the canteen, Jae-ha cast one last look at the corner of the room, where the blue-haired guard had disappeared. But neither him, nor Kija were coming out, however much the boy willed them to. His stomach twisted into a sailor knot and uncoiled painfully, then again, though not at thoughts of his own impending doom. Instead, his mind raced between worry for Kija and for his friends, and somehow he felt that he had let them all to this moment, that he and his reckless actions had led to this particular moment in time.

Earlier that morning, he’d thought regret didn’t phase him, that it wasn’t an emotion he was capable of feeling. Right now, Jae-ha felt it as though it was the only thing he could be fully certain of.

The boy followed as Kum-Ji’s men took him through the canteen and into the corridor he had seen Kija disappear into so many times before. He’d always followed from above, hidden in the comfort of the tunnels that he knew like the back of his hand. Only now did he truly appreciate that sense of security that enveloped him as he lay hiding in the tunnel. Only now did he put himself in Kija’s shoes and realised that going up against someone like Kum-Ji took more courage than Jae-ha himself possessed.

Right now, he was more a boy than a hardened criminal; right now, he was out in the open, a man had taken his knives (though not the one in his shoe). The Jae-ha who prided himself in his sharp tongue and daring escape plans was replaced by a version of himself that truly had no plan and no way of escape, not with the threat to his crewmates’ lives.

As the men ushered him into the same office he had broken into only a few days prior, Jae-ha’s gaze immediately latched onto Kum-Ji’s. The man, heavy-built and eerily menacing now that Jae-ha was within his grasp, looked at him. For the first time in his life, Jae-ha wondered what he looked like through someone else’s eyes. Did Kum-Ji see a frightened boy or did he see a fighter? Because right now, Jae-ha couldn’t know who he was at all.

Each stared the other down until the mafia boss finally nodded to his men, who pushed Jae-ha into the only chair in the room that wasn’t Kum-Ji’s. They held him down, a meaty hand pressing down on each shoulder.

“Your men are a bit too rough for my liking,” Jae-ha said because he liked having the first word. In the current setting, it gave him a sense of comfort that he could not have conjured otherwise. At least he’d have his sharp tongue to mask the panic, unless they cut it off first.

Kum-Ji sat down heavily in his own chair. “With your reputation, I am afraid it is quite the necessity that my men be more cautious than usual. Please do try to endure it.”

“Glad to know my reputation precedes me,” the boy replied. “Lovely painting, by the way.”

The mafia leader raised an eyebrow at him, not at all fooled by the innuendo behind the boy’s sudden mention of the painting. “A man with a taste for art, I see.”

“Rather, with a taste for the meaning hidden behind it, if I say so myself,” the boy replied, staring into Kum-Ji’s pit-like eyes; they were so black it was impossible to tell iris from pupil.

If Kum-Ji hadn’t suspected that Jae-ha knew about the safe, he certainly did now. The man stared at the boy in front of him, perhaps wondering if Jae-ha wasn’t just one big fool for revealing something like that or if he had a hidden agenda that Kum-Ji wasn’t seeing. Either way, Jae-ha had done it on impulse, though even he himself didn’t know why.

He felt cornered and thrust into a game of someone else’s making that he knew not the rules of, nor how to play. The only thing that felt right to him right now was to play as though he had the upper hand, to bluff his way out of here, to use his sharp tongue, and show no weakness. There was no plan behind anything he said, besides the need to buy time and build up his deck of cards until he had the winning card that would take him out of this room.

The corners of Kum-Ji’s mouth quirked a bit. “Well, this gives me all the more reason to suspect my judgement of your abilities had been correct.”

Jae-ha tried to make himself comfortable in the chair but the hands holding him down clamped down on his shoulders like iron-clad grips. 

“The fire to the warehouses, was that you then?” Kum-Ji asked. At least he was not one to torture him with pointless chatter.

“I did leave one warehouse for you to use, I’m not a monster,” Jae-ha said, recalling the night that the crew had first struck against Kum-Ji. They’d located the warehouses where he stored the illegal weapons he’d been shipping to buyers across Kai and Sei. They’d set fire to all of them, all except one that had been empty. Jae-ha had found it terribly funny, less so now.

The man nodded. “And the trucks to Saika? Were you the ones to intercept them?”

“And those to Fuga, don’t forget.”

“How could I?” Kum-Ji said, somewhat amused by the boy’s remarks, though his expression was cold and told Jae-ha that he was playing with fire.

But Jae-ha just could not help himself — he did reckless things when cornered.

The truth was that Jae-ha was growing impatient. If that monster wanted to torture him, then so be it. If he wanted to kill him, then he should do so soon because Jae-ha was getting bored with this conversation. Everything he’d done, everything the crew had done, they had never been secret about; they had always left enough for Kum-Ji and his men to know it was them. They had wanted them to know, had always wanted to challenge them at their own game. So what did it matter to him if Jae-ha confessed now? Clearly, Kum-Ji already knew all about the crew’s endeavours.

“Impressive,” Kum-Ji said. “Now, why don’t you tell me more about the little scheme that you and that cellmate of yours conjured up?”

Jae-ha felt his stomach drop as though he’d been pushed out of an airplane and was sent plummeting to his death. “Look, if you want me dead, just do me a favour and get on with it already.”

“At first, I did indeed wish you dead, as you can imagine,” the man replied, not at all phased by the sudden outburst. If anything, it seemed that it answered his question in its own way. “But I’ve found use for you, boy.”

The boy hummed. “You don’t need to waste your breath because I’d rather you kill me now.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your life that’s on the line,” Kum-Ji said with the crudest smile that the boy had ever been forced to witness. “It’s your crew’s. And that of you dear boss Gigan.”

At the mention of Gigan’s name, Jae-ha leapt out of his seat. No hands could have held him down, not even daggers to his throat, and the men had not expected it. Jae-ha tore away from their grasp and was reaching over the desk when they finally managed to get a hold on his jumpsuit. The fabric was stretched and tearing under their grasp but Jae-ha was already close enough. He’d pulled his last remaining knife and now held it to Kum-Ji’s throat.

“If you do anything to her, anything at all,” Jae-ha warned, his voice beastly.

Kum-Ji laughed and the boy’s blade scraped the side of his neck. “Do use that head of yours to think, boy. Do you honestly think that threatening my life would do you any good at all?”

“No,” Jae-ha confessed. “But I like to give your men a run for their money.”

“You’re the same as your boss. She, too, fought with quite the vigour, I’ve been told.”

Jae-ha twisted the blade until it bit into the bastard’s skin, just enough to make him bleed. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I? That is your area of expertise, not mine,” Kum-Ji said with a twisted smile. “My men are watching her as we speak and if you don’t do what I ask of you, my men will make sure she knows which one of her precious crew signed her death sentence.”

“What the hell do you want?” the boy hissed. “Just tell me already.”

Kum-Ji signalled for his goons to back off, though Jae-ha did not return to his seat. He stayed there, his blade still pressed against flesh.

“That boy,” the mafia lord said simply. “I know he is an agent for the Bureau — no, do not pretend, I know you are working together on this little game that you set up for me.”

Jae-ha tensed, already bracing for the worst. He didn’t want to ask because part of him already knew the answer: “What are you implying?”

“Merely that I have a solution to your little problem. My men won’t lay hands on Gigan and your precious crew,” Kum-Ji said. “If you bring Kija to me.”

The boy felt his blood run cold as his worst predictions came true. There must have been a long moment of silence because his thoughts suddenly froze in time, the dawning of the realisation that he would have to choose between his family’s death and that of Kija stretching endlessly.

“What are you going to do to him?” he asked weakly.

“I have quite the spectacle in mind and I will make sure you witness it for yourself.” Kum-Ji smiled. “However, I must warn you. It is not for the faintest of heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... Not good. I don't know whose situation is worse, Kija's or Jae-ha's. I wish to say that it would start looking better for them but it won't, it really won't. Not for quite a while at least. The second half of this fic is the angsty one, folks. Buckle up, we're in for a ride
> 
> I'd originally planned for this arc to go a very, very different way but as I was editing, I found myself thinking that I could twist the story further, that I could step out of my comfort zone and add the extra bit of angst that I knew could make this even better. That's also the reason I'm posting a bit later than anticipated, as I had to completely rewrite this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Chapter 11 is coming out at the beginning of next week so get ready to see how Kija's handling his own stack of problems! Have a good week, folks! <3
> 
> *Random note: I seriously dislike the font used on AO3. This story looks so much better in like a classy Garamond Pro or even a fancy Spectral...


	11. Change of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! My deepest, most sincere apologies for posting with a week's delay!
> 
> As an important announcement, I'll be forced to take a break from writing this fic for November so this fic is going to be on hold until the 9th of December when I'll resume posting once a week (or twice, potentially)! I'm really sorry for this but I'd rather put it on hold officially than leave you guys hanging for when the next update will be!
> 
> As always, enjoy the new chapter and let me know what your thoughts are in the comments! :)

—Kija—

The prison’s inner workings were completely foreign to Kija. It gave him an odd sense of dissociation — as a detective, was he not more likely to know how a prison worked from the perspective of a law enforcer, not an inmate? He’d long since given up on trying to explain the current predicament of his life. Now especially, as he walked behind the undercover guard, dressed head-to-toe in prison-issue clothing, with blood dripping down his arm and breathing still uneven following the aftermath of a violent prison scuffle, Kija felt more like any other inmate than a detective.

Corridors spiralled around the prison’s inner workings, twisting to bypass guard stations and security rooms. Dazed from the fight still, Kija followed agent Shin-ah as his vision started to taunt him. The ceiling seemed on the verge of collapse and the walls appeared to warp around them, objects reduced to no more than a blur, a burst of colour. Kija didn’t voice his concerns over the sudden dizziness even as he felt his knees threaten to buckle underneath his weight.

Whatever adrenaline Kija had held onto after the fight had long since worn off and now the pain was surging like an electric charge across every fiber of his body. There was a buzzing noise, a terrible static, but the boy suspected it was only him that could hear it.

The wound wasn’t that bad, he reckoned, but the loss of blood was the real problem here and he hoped this Penitentiary had some form of a doctor. Though whether or not Kija would trust some scruffy-looking town clinician to patch up the wound was a different story.

There was a feigned cough as the two undercover agents rounded another corner.

“Why is he not cuffed?” a guard asked, emerging from a nearby security room.

Agent Shin-ah turned around to stare at him as though the answer was perfectly obvious and he’d rather not voice it. “He has been injured.”

“So?” the guard replied, the snark in his tone sending Kija’s head spinning. They didn’t have time for this. “Who cares? Inmates are supposed to be cuffed in this part of the prison. It’s protocol.”

Kija felt the agent growing impatient but he felt himself too weak to power through such a pointless argument. He needed to sit down for a second, to doze off even, and at this point even the uncomfortable cell bunk would feel like a luxurious canopy. He couldn’t stand this any longer, could not handle even speaking right now.

He simply held out his hands towards the guard. “Then cuff me.”

It certainly wasn’t a sentence he’d ever thought he’d find himself saying but he’d already given up on pretending he knew what fate had in store for him. Because apparently, it was useless trying to guess.

With a smirk, the guard clasped the cuffs around Kija’s wrists. There was another jolt of electricity running across the boy’s body as the cold metal bit into his skin.

Shin-ah led him away then and they continued their path.

“I’m sorry,” the agent said once they had placed a corridor’s worth of distance between themselves and the guard.

But there was nothing for Shin-ah to apologise for and had Kija felt in any condition to speak, he would have tried to reassure him. However, his mind was so foggy that had the guard not cuffed him, Kija would have probably collapsed. The boy found an unexpected use of the cuffs by digging his wrists against the metal just enough to elicit sharp jolts of pain and keep himself awake.

The two agents crossed the visitation centre, though they did not linger. There was a time when agent Yona had come to see Kija and check on how he was doing. It seemed like a lifetime ago and many events had occurred since then. Jae-ha had happened. The wall blocking tunnel had been brought down. The scuffle, the wound — those were two minor details from an ongoing story that Kija would not let end, not today.

Even if they were here for his extraction, he’d not let himself be taken away. Not without telling Jae-ha to make a run for it — Jae-ha who had paused his escape plan for Kija’s sake. The detective would have to do the same and not simply because there was a favour to return, no. Not even because his pride would not allow him to turn his back. Perhaps simply because he had to say goodbye.

With Shin-ah in the lead, the agents went over to the east side of the otherwise vast visitation centre, where yet another door led them to a secluded chamber.

Once the door clicked open, Kija heard them before he even saw them.

“...What do you mean there has been a disturbance?” agent Yoon was saying. Or shouting, rather. It had been such a long time since Kija had heard his voice, though the hints of annoyance and motherly concern were impossible to mistake for another’s. “This is supposed to be a highly secure prison, is it not?”

“It is,” Kija said as he and Shin-ah entered the room. “Though the disturbance was partly my fault.”

As the boy surveyed the room, he found himself facing a rather odd sight. Agent Yoon, probably half the size of the prison warden, had rounded up on the apparently unsuspecting man, whose expression was the very epitome of unfeigned boredom. Yoon, on the other hand, had a very red face, quite possibly from all the shouting that Kija was certain the Warden had had to endure for the past few minutes.

“There you are—Christ almighty, what happened to you?!” Yoon screeched, changing track mid-sentence as he took a better look at poor Kija and rushed to his side.

For perhaps the first time since the hazy events of the morning, Kija wondered what he must have looked like — an inmate with a dizzy look to his gaze and a long and gory gash snaking up his arm. Judging from the Warden’s expression, it wasn’t something that hadn’t happened in Awa State Penitentiary before.

Almost sheepishly, Kija looked up to meet the gaze of the last person standing in the small room. A very solemn-looking Hak was staring at him with what Kija could only suspect was bottled-up judgements. Although the agent hadn’t said a word since Kija had entered, the boy could tell he had plenty to say and possibly scold him for. There was tension radiating off him the way it usually did whenever agent Yona suggested something that would put her at risk or agent Soo-Won coined another dangerous plan. For a moment, just a moment, Kija felt as though he should apologise, as though he had been caught breaking one of his father’s trophies, but he quickly snapped out of it. He looked away as Hak’s eyes continued to bore into him with scrutiny.

“Who was it?” the Warden asked, ignoring a rather panicked agent Yoon who was currently running about trying to locate a first-aid kit.

Kija exhaled a loud sigh. He was tired. “Hiyou and his goons.”

The Warden scoffed. “Those twisted bastards, what did you do to get on their bad side?”

“Who knows.”

To be frank, it hadn’t been Kija as much as it had been Jae-ha who’d poked the bear first, though he had no intention of explaining all the bad blood between his cellmate and Hiyou. Even he didn’t know it all.

“Kindly move out of the way, Warden!” Yoon yelped as he all but shoved the man aside and focused all of his attention at the detective. “Kija, you stupid boy, sit down!”

The poor boy relented to Yoon’s orders and sat down in one of the metal chairs as the agent crouched to examine the wound. Agent Yoon, having conjured an aid kit from somewhere, was now observing the gash, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. The cuffs around Kija’s wrists had come off as well, though he hadn’t even noticed.

“Looks dreadful but it hasn’t sliced through the entire muscle and I can’t see the bone,” he concluded. “It should heal, though it will take time.”

Kija shrugged. He still felt the pain but right now, for the briefest of moments, the fog clouding his mind had lifted as he remembered the events of the day and he suddenly realised what his brain had been ignoring for the past half hour. There were far more pressing matters to discuss.

He turned to Hak, ignoring the stern look he received in return. “I’m not leaving the Penitentiary.”

“Yes you are,” Yoon replied as he tried to clean the blood around Kija’s wound.

“I asked for more time, you know that,” Kija said as he stared right at Hak, knowing that there was only one authority that could challenge his in this room and that would be Hak’s.

For the first time since Kija had entered the room, Hak spoke: “Take a look at the state you’re in. It wasn’t even Kum-Ji’s men that did this to you and yet you insist to go back in, even though you are perfectly aware how dangerous this is? I don’t remember you being one to act so foolishly.”

“And I don’t remember you making Chief Mun-Dok’s decisions for him,” Kija snapped back, repressing a flinch as something cold bit into his skin and he realised Yoon was trying to patch him up. 

“This is the Chief’s order: you’re leaving the prison with us, now. ” Hak folded his arms in front of his chest and if he thought that he would look more intimidating doing so, he was certainly correct. “If it had been my decision to make, you would have been out a week ago.”

Not if Kija had a say in it. “Then maybe it’s a good thing you’re not making those decisions or else we would have never gotten any information off Kum-Ji to begin with.”

“Stop it!” Yoon yelled, clutching Kija’s arm so hard that the poor boy saw stars in his vision. “This argument is not helping anyone, you hot-headed buffoons.”

“Yoon is right,” Hak said to their surprise. “Enough talk. We’ve got agents about to start the raid any minute now and we can’t have an operative whose cover has been blown in a place where Kum-Ji could use that against the Bureau. I don’t know what lingering attachments you have to this place but as a professional—”

“My cover has not been blown yet,” Kija insisted, stubborn as always, though he bit his tongue.

As a “professional”, he understood all too well. His part in the mission was over, successfully at that, and there was nothing more to get out of this place. If anything, him staying even a minute longer could put his safety and the Bureau’s integrity in jeopardy. So why was he holding back, why did he want to get back there so desperately?

And of course, the answer was one word, one name only. Jae-ha. Though he could never properly explain that and he was running out of time.

“You’re being foolish,” Hak declared.

“That’s very true,” the boy snapped in affirmation. “But I need five minutes. Only five minutes back in and then I’ll gladly follow you out.”

Agent Hak threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Enough of this, you’re going.”

“You are,” Yoon said as though to provide confirmation.

Kija turned to Shin-ah who was already staring at him. He was the only one out of the agents with the key and the access to open the gates. He was the only one who could let him back in and not even Hak or Yoon held that much authority right now.

“I need five minutes,” Kija said to him now.

The others would not understand. Only Shin-ah knew how much time Kija and Jae-ha spent together, only he had seen how their gazes always seemed to find each other in a crowd of hundreds identically dressed inmates. He’d seen it, seen the flare across the boy’s cheeks; he’d heard Kija ramble about his cellmate and the hitch in his breath. Surely, he must have known. Most importantly, he understood that Kija needed to say goodbye. Even if he wasn’t aware of the escape plan or that Kija needed to signal for Jae-ha to make his escape, he must have seen the intensity behind Kija’s pleading gaze.

Jae-ha had helped the Bureau, though indirectly, as much as their own operatives had. He’d been willing to put his escape plans on hold for him, for what Kija stood for. He’d be waiting for his cellmate to come back and tell him when to go forward with the plan. The universe be damned if Kija didn’t do the same for him. His pride would not let him turn his back on Jae-ha now. His heart wouldn’t take it either.

“Would you wait for me?” Kija asked again, seeing that Shin-ah was on the edge already. “I’ll be in and out in five minutes.”

“Like hell he’d let you go back in,” said Hak but he didn’t know. He had no idea.

And then, finally, impossibly so, agent Shin-ah gave the smallest of nods. But in that nod, Kija recognised hope.

He leapt out of the chair, no delay, wound all but forgotten.

“Wait, your bandage!” Yoon yelped, trying to securely tuck in the loose strip of fabric so the whole bandage wouldn’t come off. With a sense of defeat, the agent then muttered, “Here we go again...”

Kija felt fingers dig into his uninjured arm. When he turned back, he came face-to-face with the angriest he’d ever seen Hak be.

The agent yanked him back. “Don’t you dare.”

“Let go,” Kija warned. “You may forget it but I am of higher rank than you and if I say that my mission here is not over, you should do well to respect my judgement.”

“Not when it’s a stupid judgement—”

“I didn’t question your judgement when you let Kum-Ji play us the first time, did I?” Kija said then. “Now let me go finish what we started.”

With that, Kija yanked his arm from the agent’s grasp, leaving Hak to pull back as though having been stung. The boy knew that the comment had ruined something between them, had ripped a string. He knew just how much it would hurt, just how much Hak had resented himself for letting Kum-Ji elude them five years ago, when they’d been so close to his capture. But right now, Kija could not allow himself to think it over. He had all the time in the world to make amends to Hak but he only had this one chance to return Jae-ha the respect that the man deserved and he would not dare waste it.

This time, it was Shin-ah that trailed behind him as they retraced their steps to the main prison facility.

“Why is he not cuffed again?” the guard from earlier asked but Kija did not stop to hold out his hands and by the sound of it, Shin-ah had ignored the man as well.

Once Shin-ah buzzed them in, Kija pushed through the gates as soon as the agent’s card touched the electric lock. There was a sense of chaotic rush that was so addicting as the boy stepped back into the prison’s main area. He felt eyes on him and although he knew the looks he got were all drawn in by the bandages on his arm, with patches of blood blooming underneath them, he felt exposed. As though they knew his secret.

Were he to stay for long, they would find out soon enough.

“Five minutes,” Shin-ah said behind him as he took his place by the gate, observing the crowd of inmates.

It seemed that Kija had underestimated how difficult it would be to find Jae-ha now. For one, the boy didn’t have even the vaguest of ideas what the time was. Had it been this very morning when he’d stormed off their cell without a word? Surely, it felt as though an eternity had passed since then. Was it mid-day already? Or evening time perhaps?

Kija decided to go outside first, where he knew Jae-ha and the crew liked to kill time by playing basketball by their own, made-up rules. Sure enough, he noticed the crew as soon as he stepped outside, though there was no trace of the jade hair he’d become so accustomed to having his gaze drawn to.

The boy wanted to ask them where Jae-ha was but thought better of it once he saw Kum-Ji’s men lurking about in the shadows, watching the crew. This couldn’t be a good sign.

With panic slowly rising, Kija went back inside and searched the canteen. No Jae-ha there, though none of Kum-Ji’s men were present either, to Kija’s relief or worry — that was yet to be decided.  
“Chow?” someone on his right asked and Kija whirled around to see the question had come from one of the PI workers on duty serving today’s lunch.

Kija looked down at the selection of stone-like bread, sickly yellow scrambled eggs, and supposed ham. “Not today, thanks.”

If he was lucky, not ever again either.

When it finally dawned on him to check their cell, Kija was feeling slightly worried that the little time he had to begin with had already been spent simply running around the prison in search of his cellmate. And indeed, when Kija took the stairs in a few long leaps and crossed the bars to come into the cell, he saw Jae-ha lying on his bunk, his long limbs spread uncomfortably over the frame.

“There you are!” Kija exhaled his relief in a single breath. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Jae-ha didn’t even look up. “Oh, are we on speaking terms now?”

The boy blinked, having all but forgotten the events prior to the mess that he’d gotten himself in this morning. He’d expected that Jae-ha would have forgotten too, though it made little sense that he’d have the same reasons as Kija to.

If this was the last time they were going to see each other, why couldn’t it be perfect? Why couldn’t it be that Jae-ha would greet him as usual, with a smile that burned brighter than the sun? Kija would miss that smile, would miss its rays and the way his heart would leap every time he saw it.

“Look, I’m sorry about the way I acted this morning but we need to talk.”

“We really do,” Jae-ha agreed, much to the boy’s surprise, and sat up in his bunk so he could see him.

That was when he noticed the bandages.

Kija watched as Jae-ha’s eyes widened and then narrowed. The man was a shade paler when he asked: “Did they do this to you?”

News of Hiyou and his men’s stint sure had travelled fast across the prison, though Kija was not surprised. In a place such as this, where entertainment was so very limited, he wasn’t at all surprised that fights made the inmates talk. Most of them must have been disappointed that they had not seen the fight, that they had not placed their bets and gambled on behalf of somebody else’s life. 

“It will heal,” Kija replied. “Hiyou will be walking out with another scar though, I’m afraid.”

“Hiyou?”

The boy frowned at Jae-ha’s visible confusion. “Yes, Hiyou. Look, there’s something else—”

“Did he say why he’s doing Kum-Ji’s bidding?” his cellmate asked, his confusion only increasing further.

“What? Look, I don’t have much time but I wanted to speak to you immediately.” Kija wasn’t sure whether Jae-ha’s current mood wasn’t just his way at getting back at the boy for earlier. Although Kija was certain he deserved it, they really didn’t have the time for it so he pressed on, “The raid has started. Now is the time to escape — take the crew and go, right now.”

To Kija’s shock, Jae-ha simply shook his head. “It’s useless now.”

“I know it’s broad daylight out but the time is now,” Kija tried again. “This will sound crazy, hear me out. A few agents came to extract me but then I knew you were waiting for my signal so then I came back—”

At that, Jae-ha visibly paled. “No, no, no, you shouldn’t have come back,” he said. “Did they see you? Just now?”

The boy took a step back, shaking his head. “You’re not making any sense—”

“Did Kum-Ji’s men see you come back in, Kija?” the man asked as he stood up. His voice had reached a point between yelling and fighting back tears, Kija could tell just from the faint tremble. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“I think so, yes.”

“Damn it,” Jae-ha said, whirling around with his foot kicking at the bunk’s metal frame.

Kija wasn’t certain what was happening or why any of that mattered. Vaguely, he wondered whether there was something he was forgetting, something that had happened but had been buried back following the events of the morning. 

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, treading cautiously against the energy of this unknown Jae-ha whom he’d never seen before.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Jae-ha said, that fake smirk on his face again. “Dear old Kum-Ji wants me to take you to him for his fun little game of carnivore.”

“So he knows already,” Kija muttered, almost to himself.

Jae-ha sighed. “Oh, he knows.”

There was no shock, not really. It didn’t really come as any surprise, not if the raid had started and the agents had begun storming in. Kija hadn’t asked and agent Hak hadn’t seemed like he’d answer anyway but if the information had leaked from within the Bureau, then Kum-Ji must have known for hours, perhaps since the very beginning of the morning, perhaps even yesterday?

Kija recognised the look written across Jae-ha’s face. It was one of rising panic, of a man caught in a trap. And there was only one possible explanation behind the furrow between his cellmate’s brows — there was more to the story here.

“What’s the ultimatum?” the boy asked then. “What did he say he’d do if you don’t hand me over?”

His cellmate stilled. “Just get out of this place and let me deal with it.”

“Jae-ha.”

The agent feared what words would come next, he feared for the worst. Kum-Ji wasn’t a man to spare anybody; his cruelty knew no limits. If Kija could make a guess, he’d expect that his threats would be as inhumane as the rest of his methods and judging by how shaken Jae-ha was, there was only one guess to make.

“The lives of the crew,” his cellmate said, confirming his fears. “Our boss is also being held by his men.”

“I can help,” he tried. “I can send men to—”

“To do what, Kija? Forget it, just get out of here.” Jae-ha waved his hand dismissively, as though the gesture might help him recover his stoicism. Did he still not realise they were in this together? “I’ll figure out what to do. Surely, there’s something else he’d want.”

“What if he demands you work for him, steal for him. Kill for him?”

“Then I’ll do it!” Jae-ha barked. “You think that because you’ve known me for a few weeks that you know all there is to know about me? I’m not a saint, I’m not you — I’ve stolen for a living and yes, I’ve killed, too. If I have to work for him, then I’d do it. I’d do it a thousand times over if it means none of the people I care about have to die. I’ve already made my decision.”

Kija felt the air leave his lungs for the briefest of moments, not out of surprise but out of heartache upon hearing the way Jae-ha’s voice hitched towards the end. He felt small and petty, so small that he wanted to vanish from existence. Had he any right to judge this man for anything? This man who had helped him, had risked so much for him, was ready to risk some more?

The boy looked over the bars of the cell at where Shin-ah was waiting for him. I’m sorry, Shin-ah, he thought. There simply wasn’t a possibility that he was just walking out of Awa State Penitentiary like this. Sorry, Hak and Yoon. He couldn’t disappoint the person who’d helped him the most. Not like this. He would have never joined the police if he wasn’t prepared to gamble his luck for the sake of someone else’s.

“If I let you give me up to Kum-Ji, would you do it?” Kija asked, still looking through the bars.

The beginnings of a plan were already forming in his head.

Jae-ha didn’t even miss a beat. “Absolutely not.”

The boy felt the corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. He did not deserve that, did not deserve the way his heart leapt even at a time like this. But perhaps he could make it right at least. It wasn’t too late, was it?

“What if I told you I have a plan?”

There was a funny sound as Jae-ha exhaled his frustration in a loud sigh. “Like hell you do. Just go already.”

Kija looked at him then. “You said you’ve made your decision. Well, I’ve made mine. I won’t stand by and watch people get hurt for my sake.”

If he hadn’t come to Awa, what would Jae-ha’s life be like? Would he and his crew be out already, enjoying their freedom? There would be no Kum-Ji threatening their lives. They wouldn’t be puppets on somebody else’s strings. If Kija had lied and pretended to be a nobody serving for tax fraud, would Jae-ha be out now and more importantly, did he regret helping Kija after all?

Perhaps he didn’t deserve to know the answer; perhaps it was his punishment for letting others get involved. Kija only hoped that he would be the only one to pay the price for gambling with so many lives.

“I have a plan,” he said finally. “Do you trust me?”

And again, Jae-ha didn’t miss a single beat as he replied: “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so shit went down two weeks ago and I don't feel like going into details but basically, my mom had to go to the ER and get treated urgently while I live thousands of fecking miles away, with four exams and a thousand uni deadlines, worrying to death. I don't want to write a story that lacks my enthusiasm and I fear that if I were to force myself to write while all of this is happening, I won't do this story the justice it deserves and I won't be giving you guys the story that YOU deserve.
> 
> So yeah, 9th of December, remember the date! I'll be coming with a new chapter and I will be posting regularly (perhaps even twice a week as I won't have any uni anymore)! See you then! <3


	12. Angel Falling from Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest Reader! It's been a while, for which I can only apologise and make no excuses. The good news is that I've written the rest of this fic and will be uploading under a consistent schedule from now on!
> 
> Sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest that will follow! As always, I love reading your thoughts in the comments so I hope to see you there! <3

—Jae-ha—

It was as though he was a child again — helpless and alone. He needed others to guide him, to tell him what to do in order to survive, and he would owe them, the way victims would live their lives owing every day to their rescuers. Jae-ha had been helpless and alone once. Never again. He was not the type of person whose pride allowed him to take blows and stay down.

Back then, Gigan had been his rescuer and now that he could not help her the way she had done for him, he was looking to Kija to be his new rescuer, to help him protect what he alone could not. Would they succeed? They had to. Could he repay him — no, _how_ could he repay him? With any luck, the two of them would get out of this unscathed and then — what? — Kija would return to his life of justice and Jae-ha to crime. He could give this boy anything for his help, anything made of copper, silver, gold, or diamond, any _thing_ that was physical and could be stolen. But he knew that Kija’s pride would not allow that he take any of it. The thought left Jae-ha dreading what he could ask for. That Jae-ha lead an honest life? If Kija asked it of him, Jae-ha could not promise that he’d turn his back to crime because it was his home the way that not much else had been. It had given him power when he had been powerless and it had taught him how to live when he hadn’t had a life. 

When Jae-ha had been younger, he’d made ends meet off the streets. It had started, as it always did amongst their kind, with petty theft — a stranger’s wallet, food from stalls when no one was looking. As time had passed, he’d become more daring. The simple fact, that they hadn’t caught him yet, was both a blessing and a curse. Sure enough, the officers didn’t know his face when he walked past them and he hadn’t had to watch his back in the slammer but it made him bold, too bold for his own good. Jae-ha had started to think himself invincible, too good for them to catch him. He thought of himself as the new, much improved Clyde and he just needed to find his Bonnie.

Greed had gotten the best of him and when he was fifteen, he’d started stealing from thieves. Why do everything alone when others could do the work for you and you could profit off of their surprise, or so he’d thought. He had graduated from Clyde’s boring one-sided endeavours and had begun playing a double game. But as all gambles, sooner or later, you started losing and once you did, you couldn’t recognise a winning hand from a losing one.

It had been a winter night and young, foolish Jae-ha had been perched on top of an abandoned factory. He was looking down from the holed-up, gutted windows as the thieves below him plotted their next heist. Jae-ha had successfully intercepted their last plan, snatching the goods from underneath their very noses during their transport. He intended to do the same again.

The captain of the crew was an older woman who seemed to have a no-bullshit kind of attitude and as much as Jae-ha hated to admit it, he liked that. He had especially liked hearing her call the men in charge of the transport an “incompetent bunch of baboons”. Jae-ha had had to swallow a chuckle.

“We are overlooking one small detail here, gentlemen,” their captain had said then, as nonchalant as ever, sitting on a crate and puffing on a cigar, of all things. “We have a guest.”

Jae-ha had felt dread then, creeping in. His instincts had told him to flee and he’d ran. It had been a cold, snowless winter night, with sheets of slippery ice stretched thin as spider webs across the tops of the factory buildings. Had he not been chased by the crew, he would have perhaps been more careful. At least he liked to imagine so. But one of his chasers had taken a different route to cut his path and Jae-ha had been pressed to do a daring jump. He’d almost had it, he’d landed. But the ice had betrayed him and he’d fallen from the sky, lucky to only break a leg but not lucky enough to escape.

“At last, the brat who’s been making a show out of our heists,” the woman had said, peering down at him. He must have looked like a sorry sight, laying on the snow in pain. “Tell me, are you looking for a job?”

Jae-ha had tried to bite back his tongue. He hadn’t succeeded. “Why, are you offering?”

“Only if you’re not always this cheeky,” she’d said and extended her hand. “Gigan.”

“Jae-ha.” And he’d taken it. Perhaps he’d never let go.

To think, that Jae-ha’s carelessness, his quickness to make enemies, would cost him those who’d only ever helped and guided him. It must be a kind of irony, the way life worked — the way _his_ life worked. He knew, he’d never kept his tongue, not even when it had gotten him into fights. He’d never unsheathed his blades once he’d been provoked, not even when it had cost him his advantage. But in his mind, he’d always been the boy who scaled roofs and emerged from the shadows, alone and unnoticed. He’d never stopped to think that his actions could ever reflect on anyone but him. Even when he’d been with the crew, he’d always thought of himself as part of something that didn’t necessarily need him in order to function as normal. Not once had he thought that if he were to fail, he’d bring all of them down with him.

Had Kija felt this same sense of impending doom as Jae-ha did now? When he’d first come to prison, undercover, and had the success of his and the other agents’ mission put in danger by some criminal with a childish grudge against white collars, had he wanted to be rescued too? 

They exchanged looks now as Kum-Ji’s men took Kija away from Jae-ha’s grasp. Flashes of betrayal coursed like searing pain through him, burning, searing, but he shut himself off. After all, this was part of the plan. The ridiculous plan that he had somehow agreed to.

“Not bad. For a thief,” Kum-Ji told Jae-ha then, signalling his men with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I must admit, I am quite surprised. Pleasantly so, of course, but no less surprised.” 

One lackey, a brick wall of a man, pushed Kija down into a chair across from his boss, moving to tie the boy’s wrists behind him with a rope. Another, this one less formidable, frisked Jae-ha.

Sometime down the line, Jae-ha would probably remember the scene slowly unfolding before his eyes. He would remember how Kija had shivered in his grasp as he’d led him down the corridors towards Kum-Ji’s back room. He’d remember stroking his wrist as they’d entered, in an attempt to soothe both of them. He’d remember watching the boy he’d come to care for strapped to a chair, submitting to whatever tortures lay ahead, all for Jae-ha. He would remember it all, and he hoped to etch this whole scene in his head with a blade to Kum-Ji’s body by the end of it.

“We had a deal and I’m a man of my word.” Jae-ha stood up to the mafia lord’s challenge. “Are you?”

“Be patient and I will be,” Kum-Ji said. “First, a welcome is in order. My little agent, thought you could beat me, didn’t you?”

Jae-ha saw Kija take a breath, then smile — and oh, what a sight was it for this boy to deign the most predatory of smiles that Jae-ha had seen. “I’ve hardly been unsuccessful, haven’t I?”

Kum-Ji looked as though he was trying to swallow down a sour bite. “You’ve been more successful than most, I can give you that much. But ask yourself this: did you honestly think you could get away with it?”

Unable to stop himself, Jae-ha flinched. Therein lay the crux of it all, didn’t it? Because he could have gotten away with it, he would have, if he hadn’t come back for Jae-ha. But Jae-ha could not allow himself to think like that right now — later, perhaps, but not until this was well behind them.

His small lapse of control was noticed only by Kye-Sook, who was watching him with open distrust. He could watch all he wanted; he’d still end up with his face on the floor by the end of the hour.

When Kija didn’t respond, Kum-Ji continued, “You’re barely old enough to be an agent. Did you just join the Bureau? Next to me, you’re but a child. You know nothing, you have nothing. Did you think someone like you could bring down an empire that I’ve spent twice as many years as you’ve been alive to build? Cut down one head and two more shall take its place. Even I wouldn’t be able to stop this operation if I wanted to. What can _you_ do?”

Kum-Ji was packing heat in his words now; his mouth was twisted between fury and the need for revenge. Jae-ha was trying not to shuffle on his feet, barely controlling the shivers running down his spine. What was taking the signal so long?

“I can certainly try,” Kija said and from the view of his profile, Jae-ha could tell he was watching the clock on the wall too. “Cut enough heads and at some point there won’t be any left.”

The mafia lord watched him with a blank look, seconds ticking by. Then, he said simply, “Kye-Sook, hand me the mallet.”

Jae-ha’s resolve to remain silent slipped. “Our deal first, Kum-Ji.”

Stop! Stop it, Jae-ha! But it was already too late and he’d never been one to hold his tongue. He couldn’t have stopped himself, saints know he’d tried. If not for him, he’d tried for Gigan and for Kija. But the plan was already falling apart at the seams. He could not stand and watch Kija being tortured.

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears when Kum-Ji said, “Kye-Sook, the mallet. Now.”

He saw the mallet being passed and recognised the eagerness with which the mafia lord took it, almost as if he wanted to swing before he even had the instrument in his grasp. Feeling helpless, Jae-ha watched as one of the lackeys untied Kija’s hands from the back of the chair, only to secure them on the desk and tie the wrists together again, the uninjured one flat on the table.

“Which finger would you like to part with first?” Kum-Ji asked then.

Blind panic surged through Jae-ha. He’d wanted those fingers running through his hair, on his cheek, tracing patterns across his chest. He’d wanted to lay kisses on those knuckles. He’d wanted this boy safe from this world and yes, from Jae-ha himself if it meant Kija would know a better life. Instead, he stood at the mercy of a mallet that was counting down until its swing came tearing through flesh and bone and the taut strings of Jae-ha’s heart.

Jae-ha saw red. He surged forward. “Look, we had a deal and I’m sure as hell not waiting for you to finish playing Donald Duck.”

Kum-Ji’s eyes flashed at him in warning which Jae-ha would not, could not, heed. “You wait your turn.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Now, pick up your damn phone and tell your men to back off.”

There was a long moment when the tension in the room became an almost palpable force. Jae-ha watched, his muscles stiff with anticipation, as the expression on Kum-Ji’s face shifted from barely contained fury to outright rage. The men on either side of him, one twice his size and the other a loose-limbed man with teeth sharpened to fangs, looked ready to take him down.

In the second that Kum-Ji smiled, Jae-ha realised one thing with absolute certainty. He had just doomed everyone. He had come here to negotiate Gigan’s release and maintain Kija’s safety, a double game which required a great deal of control. And he had gambled all of that in an instant, hadn’t he?

There was a loud, crisp sound, like a shout, but nobody was screaming. The mallet stood frozen in midair, as though suspended in anti-gravity.

It was the sirens. Too late, they seemed to mock him, too damned late. The alarm had started blaring and this time, it sounded across the entire prison. This time, it didn’t stop. The sirens were part of the plan, Jae-ha knew, but they had come about thirty seconds too late. He’d already signed their doom by opening his mouth.

“Is this your doing?” Kum-Ji bellowed at Kija, whose expression Jae-ha could not see. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we? You won’t be able to keep your silence for long.”

“No!” Jae-ha raised his voice. Failure was the only hand he’d ever known how to deal but this time there was too much at stake. He’d accomplished nothing. “You gave me your word. Your fucking games can wait until you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“Take care of him,” Kum-Ji said to his men. He picked up the mallet again. “And make sure no one interrupts us.”

Two sets of arms looped around Jae-ha and hurled him out of the room, away from Kija. The door fell shut behind Kye-Sook, the sound loud and clear like the sirens overhead. 

As Jae-ha looked at the men who were now exchanging glances, there was only one thought on his mind, a flash of a memory from not too long ago. The Red Ledger. His own name, circled. Jae-ha understood now what it meant, that the circle was doom, that it meant his fate had already been decided between one loop of the pen and another. He remembered then, that one summer night when he’d set fire to one of Kum-Ji’s firearm storage houses, the way he’d waved at the camera, and how even though he’d had a mask, his hair had been dyed the same vivid green that he’d ended up taking a liking to. How had he forgotten that until now?

To think that his own cockiness would be his downfall. But it wasn’t just that, was it? It was like this every time. It was why he should have continued working alone.

“You never had her, did you?” Jae-ha asked but he knew the answer. Gigan had never been Kum-Ji’s target and her bunch of merry men had never posed a problem. Until Jae-ha.

Kye-Sook had the audacity to smile. “We knew she was holed up in that shop on 44th Street so retrieving her would have been a small feat, if one at all.”

The shop on 44th? Jae-ha wished he could laugh. The shop on 44th was a front and Gigan was no fool. The basement of the shop connected to a small tunnel left all the way back from the drug smuggling wars a few decades prior and surfaced behind a barbershop on 58th Str. They’d long since lost her tracks and they didn’t even know.

The sirens were still blaring overhead. A heavy _thump_ came from inside Kum-Ji’s room but it didn’t sound like the strike of a mallet. Jae-ha smiled. Of course, when they had frisked them earlier, they hadn’t found one of Jae-ha’s blades wrapped in the bandages of Kija’s injured hand. With no other men in the room, it couldn’t have been difficult for Kija to cut through his ropes. Luckily still, they hadn’t thought to check inside Jae-ha’s shoes either.

But luck had never been part of his work. It was just his capable hands, his steady feet, his trusty blades, and his bloodthirst. A life of crime was all he was fit for, despite Kija’s protests that he was a better man, and now was his time to prove it.

It was Kye-Sook’s arrogant smile that had sealed his fate to go down first. He tensed as the air kicked up around him and Jae-ha’s foot cracked him across the jaw like the lash of a whip. His head hit the wall. He slid down to the floor. If he were like the rest of them, he’d have gotten back up but Kye-Sook was no fighter. Jae-ha would know to spot one, he’d been a fighter all his life.

A pair of arms tackled Jae-ha across the waist and forced him to stumble backwards across the corridor. The man’s grip was tight but he himself was too skinny and his limbs too loose. He’d been starving in prison for too long; Jae-ha had only been here a month, he still had his strength. There was a grunt of pain as Jae-ha’s knee connected with the man’s gut. 

As Jae-ha stumbled away from the man’s grasp, he reached to equip the blades stashed in his shoes. It wasn’t much and those weren’t his favourite blades — he’d left his most trusty dagger with Kija — but they’d have to make do. They just had to.

Even if Jae-ha could have taken the loose-limbed boy out easily enough, he couldn’t afford to lose track of the real danger in the room: the second man. The lackeys regrouped in the space of Jae-ha’s already laboured breaths. Two-on-one wasn’t a bad position to be in, but when one of the men was built like a train, it seemed less and less favourable by the second. He’d have to be smart about this but when all he wanted to do was run back and make sure Kum-Ji hadn’t laid a finger on Kija, his mind wasn’t in this fight the way it should have been. Not if he wanted to win it.

Jae-ha swung the first blade as a distraction, lodging it in the loose-limbed man’s thigh. The second, which he’d hurled in rapid succession after the first, was the shot that mattered. This time, the blade lodged in the man’s shoulder. The man bellowed in pain, knees buckling.

No blades and one mammoth of a man left. Jae-ha hadn’t been a believer in favourable odds anyway.

The second fighter hurtled towards him now. There was a second after the initial impact when Jae-ha felt the air being snatched out of his lungs. There was a crack, which he felt more than heard, the dizzying snap of one of his ribs, no doubt. Jae-ha felt the pressure of something against his back give and then he was being hurled through the double doors which separated the corridor and the canteen.

If he’d rolled across the tiled floor, Jae-ha didn’t know or remember. He’d lost a few seconds of consciousness. His ears must have been ringing but it was impossible to tell over the sirens.

When he raised himself to his feet again, the scene around him was one of utter and absolute madness. The canteen had turned into a jungle of rioting prisoners and surging guards who were trying to restrain the crowd. Had Kija anticipated this would happen when the sirens started? Was this part of the plan? Or were they improvising their way to survival as best they could?

The man who’d hurled him through the double doors was struggling in the arms of two guards, one of whom was yelling: “Is he one of Kum-Ji’s?”

Jae-ha stumbled, his body carrying him forward only by the sheer power of adrenaline.

“I’m not sure!” the other guard said, a blue-haired man that Jae-ha’s disoriented mind recognised from somewhere but could not place.

“Well, take a good bloody look, Shin-ah!”

There was a click in Jae-ha’s mind as the pieces fell together, parting through the mist of pain and injury. The blue-haired guard who’d been the one waiting for Kija to return. Kija, of course, hadn’t. Hence, the alarms. The plan. Yes, the plan, focus on that, Jae-ha reminded himself.

“He’s one of Kum-Ji’s alright,” Jae-ha said as he approached. “Leave him to me and go. Kija’s alone with Kum-Ji in the back room, through the corridor there.”

Jae-ha watched the dark-haired guard stiffen and train his eyes on him, unblinking even as the lackey struggled against his grasp. “And who the hell are you?”

“Hak, now isn’t the time,” the other agent said, though he flashed Jae-ha an acknowledging nod. “We need to get to Kija.”

Jae-ha’s disadvantage was clear as the guards dashed towards the corridor. The mountain of a man stood then, none the worse for wear despite his grunts. He was practically uninjured. Jae-ha, on the other hand, was another story altogether. He’d lost all his blades. He could barely even stand.

He was on the losing side of this fight, even before it had started. Jae-ha knew a losing hand when he’d been dealt one. He knew how to bluff it. What he didn’t know was how to survive this.

Years ago, when he’d been a kid under Garou’s care, he’d wanted to be invisible. Why was he thinking about this now? Why was his mind conjuring images of Garou _now_? He felt small and he smelled the fear on him like it was an actual scent. Could the other man, too? He could tell, couldn’t he? Of course he could. Garou always could. Invisible, invisible.

Jae-ha took a few tentative steps back, towards the jungle of wrestling guards and prisoners. He’d be invisible if he got swallowed up in the crowd, wouldn’t he? Jae-ha watched the lackey charge after him, a freight train unhinged, but Jae-ha’s body was already disappearing in the chaos of movement.

He stumbled back, pressing from body to body as fists flew, shanks sliced the air, and batons cracked like sparks of electricity. The roar inside the tangled mess of bodies was louder than the sirens. It threatened to engulf him. A prisoner next to him was pulled under the current of the crowd, trampled as hands shot out towards him. To help him up, to make sure he stayed down? A mystery with an open end. A baton cracked against someone’s ribs, Jae-ha so close that the sound sent surges of bile up his throat.

This was no honourable place to die. Then again, none were honourable men here. Once upon a time, he’d thought himself to be one. Could he anymore, with Garou’s face projected onto every prisoner and guard around him? With someone’s blood caking his jumpsuit? The answer came simply: he couldn’t.

Hands wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him from behind. That was it, wasn’t it? Jae-ha the fool, dying faceless and alone in a prison riot of his own making.

He could hear the shout of his own name over the roar and the sirens. Could it be? Or was he already too far under?

“Jae-ha?” Rowen was yelling into his ears as a second pair of arms helped pull him away from the crowd. “Is this part of your plan, Jae-ha?”

How he found his voice, he didn’t know: “Kija’s plan, this time.”

“That boy comes up with even worse plans than you! Saints, you’ve completely corrupted him, haven’t you?”

Jae-ha had always been a bad influence, hadn’t he?

Letting himself get dragged away, Jae-ha looked on as the rioting men let them pass, closing the spaces they’d left behind in an instant. Watching the crowd was like observing a fight for dominance between wild animals. It wasn’t human. At that moment, none of them were.

“Why haven’t the sirens for sector disturbance stopped?” he asked once back on his shaky feet.

Rowen tensed. “Because this isn’t a sector disturbance. One of the guards triggered Black Protocol and the whole prison is going under lockdown.”

Now a safe distance away from the crowd, Jae-ha simply stared. He felt the much-needed snag of adrenaline as his mind began to clear and his body became responsive again. “Black Protocol?”

“An emergency lockdown in case of a prison riot,” Rowen explained. “All guards were deployed to restrain any prisoners outside of their cells.”

“And we’re outside of our cells,” Maya supplied dutifully.

“Not for long. We’re going back to my cell,” Jae-ha said. “We have to make our escape now.”

“Now?!” Maya hissed. “As in, right now?!”

“Are you deaf, you fool?” Jae-ha turned facing the crowd, trusting that his men would follow. “We move close to the left wall, in a single file. Make sure no one gets pulled in the crowd, got it?”

“But if we move now, we’re dead for sure.”

Jae-ha scoffed. “If we don’t move, we’re dead anyway. We’ve worked against worse odds, don’t you think?”

There was a beat of silence and then a simple “Lead the way.”

One by one, the crew hugged the left wall and moved stealthily to bypass the riot. Every flutter of motion made Jae-ha’s heart race, every outstretched arm an enemy and every shout another siren of alarm. But they were close, so close, only a few feet away from the end of the riot and the staircase that would lead them to his cell. To their freedom.

He caught sight of white hair, that same unmistakable glint of silver that he had come to associate with the one person that was more important than anyone else.

“Kija!” he shouted. And oh, the pure bliss as the boy turned towards his voice and their gazes fell upon each other. Safe. Unharmed besides a blooming bruise to his cheekbone. A smile like the sun.

Jae-ha wanted to shout out his goodbye, to promise everything and do anything, but all he did was heave a surprised sigh as strong hands shot out for him through the crowd. He saw the face of Kum-Ji’s lackey only a split second before he felt something sharp plunge into his gut. And _twist_.

Then, there was an explosion of pain. Blinding, searing, like none he’d felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay and sorry about the way this chapter ended! If you thought me coming back to finish this fic was going to end up with you getting some fluffy chapters, you guessed wrong because we're stepping in angst territory now! 
> 
> The good news is that I've written the rest of this fic (and it's a long one, mind you), so I'll be posting once a week until the end, no further interruptions this time. I owe you guys that much at the very least. I'm only editing chapters now so it should be a breeze. Then again, when is writing ever a breeze?
> 
> See you all in a week! <3


	13. The Mist-Shrouded Cape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dear Reader! I do hope you enjoy this new chapter, which coincidentally also marks the half-way point of this fic story-wise!
> 
> As always, I'd love to see your opinions down in the comments! Have a nice read! :)

—Kija—

Caught between one breath and another, hope flashed — strong and disarming. In one second, Kija felt himself smile. In the next, he felt himself shout, the sound a desperate rattle against his ribcage. The scream wrenched itself out straight from the depths of his lungs and splintered like cracks of lightning through his parted lips. One word, one name suspended in horror.

Dread sparked through him, first like fire and then like ice. He watched Jae-ha gasp, stagger. And he ran, but fear clamped down on his feet with the weight of steel chains.

Kija rammed into the assailant, shoulder against chest. The impact was fast, jarring. And then, he was falling. The man pulled him down with him as he lost his balance and collapsed into the crowd. Hands shot out from the riot, hungry and desperate to reach out and draw them in. If there was a hell, Kija found himself swept in it. Horror blinded him. The stench of sweat and blood suffocated him, coating the back of his throat. Bodies were woven tight, just a mess of limbs conjoined in an abomination of shapes. Arms locked around his own, legs looped around his. He could no longer even feel the body of the assailant beneath his feet.

Swept in the sea of hands, Kija wanted to wish for nothing else but to wake up from this awful nightmare. This plan, this whole mission, was unravelling before his eyes. It felt as though he’d lost the fight as soon as Kum-Ji’s lackey had taken him down with him but he’d lost the battle even before that, hadn’t he? He’d already lost the war at the plunge of the blade in Jae-ha’s side.

The rioting crowd drew him in, deeper still. Kija felt himself confronted with the same ugly sight of splattered blood, the same wrenched-out crimson trails following the arc of withdrawn knives. He fought to turn around, to see whether Jae-ha hadn’t been swept by the crowd, but there was no sight of green to be found, only red.

Arms were hauling him back now but Kija had the sense to struggle. He wouldn’t just let it happen. He needed to get back, back to Jae-ha, back to his arms. He’d trembled before Kum-Ji’s mallet, he’d almost lost himself then, but right now was different. Right now, there was somebody who needed him.

Kija trashed against the crowd — a lone man against the world, a caged animal fighting for its freedom.

“Shin-ah, a little help here!” shouted a voice which Kija only vaguely recognised as Hak’s.

Kija whipped back in time to see the agent wrenching away greedy hands as though he were hacking through jungle vines. Hak shouted something again, hair slit with sweat and bouncing wildly with every movement. When their gazes locked, Kija could only see fire.

The agents brawled their way to him, arms looping beneath his shoulders, and they tugged and pulled. Kija felt himself being wrenched away from the riot, his own feet kicking at any hands that reached to grab him again.

Kija sagged against Hak and Shin-ah once they’d escaped the worst of the crowd. In his mind, one thought rose above all: he needed to get back to Jae-ha.

“I’m never setting foot inside a prison until the end of my days,” agent Hak said, wiping sweat off his forehead. He was breathing in harsh pants, as though his heart was in his throat. Kija knew that feeling well enough by now.

But Kija said nothing, just staggered back to his feet and let his legs carry him. To where? There was only one way, one answer. One reason to keep going.

“How is he?” he asked as he moved to where Jae-ha’s crew had clustered, as far away from the crowd as they could.

Kija could see Jae-ha now, slouched against the wall and visibly in pain, but alive at the very least. Still unsteady on his feet, Kija crouched down next to him, lifting the edges of the prison-issue shirt from where it was tucked in his jumpsuit to peer at the wound.

With Jae-ha’s eyes on him, he tried to keep the horror away from his expression. The blade, probably one of the shanks crafted in prison, had all but shredded at the skin. Trails of crimson seeped out with each of Jae-ha’s laboured breaths, blood and flesh pulsing as though Kija was staring at a heart.

“How bad is it?” Maya asked from behind him.

It looked like the blade had gone through flesh and muscle and sunken through arteries. That much blood could only mean the blade had shredded an organ.

Kija forced himself not to answer, though that would be an answer enough.

“Doesn’t feel great, I can tell you that,” Jae-ha said instead, with unmasked effort. He was pale, perhaps too pale. His eyes appeared striking blue, purple almost. “Did you miss me?”

Kija missed a great many things. He missed the first day when they’d met, he missed the night when they’d talked against the backdrop of the ocean. He missed last night, when he’d felt Jae-ha’s breath against his back. He missed Jae-ha’s smiles, the real and even the fake ones, and he even missed the ridiculous pet names. But he could not bring himself to say any of that. 

Instead, Kija hissed, “I really want to kill you right now.”

Jae-ha’s smile was there again, but this one was pained. “I can think of another word with a 'k' that might be more fitting.”

As if he hadn’t already thought about that too. Kija ignored him. Turning to face the agents who’d followed behind him, he said, “We need to get him to Yoon.”

Hak frowned, the slight shake of his head sending tremors down Kija’s spine. “I sent Yoon to the van before we triggered Black Protocol. We’re surrounded and the whole prison is under lockdown. No one’s getting in or out.”

Trapped, in a mess of his own creation. They could do nothing, they could help nobody. Even if Yoon stood mere feet away, there were locked doors and piles of wrestling bodies separating them now. _Trapped_, the alarms overhead sang to him.

The plan had been simpler. It had been almost perfect. But the word ‘almost’ was a complicated one, especially when the current events were already spiralling beyond their control. When the alarms had triggered, all Kija had had to do was stay intact long enough for Hak and Shin-ah to find him. Jae-ha would have gathered his crew and escaped. Kija would have been extracted. But the plan had gone so horribly wrong. 

“There is another way,” Jae-ha said quietly.

Kija locked eyes with him, a silent conversation between the two cellmates. The only way, Kija knew, was up, up and through the tunnel in their cell. Would Jae-ha make it? Something in Jae-ha’s expression told him he would have to.

Hak looked between the two of them. “What way?”

“Upstairs,” Kija said, unsure at first. When no one made to move, he tried again: “Now! Or are we waiting for another of Kum-Ji’s men to join us?”

Maya flashed a distrusting look to Hak and Shin-ah. “But they’re COs.”

Perhaps for the first time today, Kija’s attention seemed to snap, fully, to the two agents beside him. Dressed as they were, head to toe in guard gear, batons hanging on their belts, they looked like an inmate’s worst nightmare. Correctional officers. Guards sent in to subdue rioters. Did Jae-ha’s crew know Kija was an agent? Kija had certainly never told them. Had Jae-ha? Was that going to become a problem now, of all times?

“It’s fine,” Jae-ha croaked then, coming to his rescue. As always. “If they’re with him, we can trust them.”

Jae-ha’s word seemed to be final and Kija could only wonder at the kind of authority he seemed to possess amongst the crew, perhaps even wonder at the things he’d done to earn it. Unlike in the Bureau, where Kija, Hak, and Soo-Won were always in contention for authority, the crew didn’t question Jae-ha. Rowen and Maya simply looped arms around him and helped support his weight between them.

“Upstairs then,” Kija said dumbly, forcing himself to lead the way to their cell. They had very little time on their hands now, perhaps they were already cutting it short as it was. Kija didn’t know when the alarms would stop, _if_ they would stop. He didn’t know what would happen if the riot continued but he wasn’t planning on waiting long enough to find out. The sooner they were out of here, the better.

The end was in sight now, the cell, the tunnel, the ocean. But there was another thought at the back of his mind now — the possibility, the worry, that while a bunch of thieves might howl with delight at the sight of the escape tunnel, agent Hak might have other ideas. He was being ominously silent, uncharacteristically so.

The forceful tug to the sleeve of Kija’s prison uniform came once they were outside of the cell. Having both expected and dreaded it, Kija stepped aside to let the crew enter the cell, letting Hak drag him to the railing on the row.

“I’ve seen the blueprints, you know. There’s nothing on this side of the prison,” Hak said, the glint in his eyes dangerous.

“There is but you’re probably not going to like it.”

“Humour me,” he said but nothing in his expression told Kija that he should do so, not unless he wanted to lose his head.

There was really no easy way for Kija to confess his complicity in the escape plan to the Bureau’s single most fierce agent. He knew what Hak would see: six prisoners who belonged behind bars and a crazed detective who’d failed his own vows to his country. Perhaps that was the reality. Kija knew only that he was not letting anyone stay behind.

“There’s an escape tunnel. In my cell,” Kija said carefully. “From there, it’s about a seventy-foot drop to the ocean. Not ideal, true, but if we dive feet-first, we should be able to swim to shore uninjured.”

Shin-ah was listening to their conversation too but he stood in silence, no doubt thinking about the logistics behind their escape and the probability of their success. Kija would rather he didn’t voice his conclusions once he’d reached them.

Something in Hak’s expression seemed to change. He said, his tone different now, “Kija, tell me you’re not involved in this.”

He held the agent’s gaze. “It may have been me and Jae-ha who dug it up.”

The look on Hak’s face would have been comical, had the situation been any less dire. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” he found himself saying.

“This isn’t some back-up plan you just came up with. No, this is why you wanted to go back in, isn’t it?” Hak hissed. “You’ve been breaking out these criminals, that’s what you’ve been doing. The great detective Kija, pride of the Bureau. You think Captain Mun-Dok is going to turn a blind eye? Because, what, you somehow have a say in _this_?”

Kija felt his face heat up. “They helped me get all the intel we needed on Kum-Ji.”

“Oh, so you filled them in on our mission while you were at it?”

“It was necessary!”

“Listen to yourself, you involved criminals and now you want to free them too!” Hak tried to plead with him but only succeeded in insulting him. “Are you willing to risk your career for a bunch of thieves?”

“They were wrongly convicted!” But what use was there trying to reason with Hak? Didn’t Kija know any better? “Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you right now. You can have my report later.”

“I’ll be the first to read it,” Hak roared.

“Be my guest,” Kija snapped. “Until then, don’t sabotage the plan.”

Hak raised his hand now, one accusatory finger pointed in Kija’s face. Oh, he was angry, angrier than Kija had ever seen him. He was practically shaking. “Yes, your genius plan. Getting us all killed, was it? You’ve almost succeeded so far.”

“I couldn’t have expected a whole bloody riot now, could I?” Kija raised his voice to the challenge. “If we want out now, we take the tunnel. If you want to stay and wait out until they start bringing out the blanks and the CS-gas shells, go right ahead.”

Kija knew Hak would relent. He had to, even through his stubbornness, he must have seen no other way around the situation. There was a sinking feeling in Kija’s stomach that today he’d managed to break down all the trust built between them. He’d questioned his authority, he’d thrown lapses from the past in his face, and now he was arguing in favour of criminals’ freedom. Deep down, Kija knew that there would be no saving what they’d just lost today.

“Suppose we take the tunnel then,” Hak bit back, “you think your friend over there is going to survive a seventy-foot dive? With those injuries?”

Bullseye, a shot straight to the heart. “Well, he will have to make it! He isn’t meant to die here!”

Hak’s face crumpled, some of his resolve giving way to pity. Somehow, it was more insulting than any of the words he’d thrown at Kija thus far. “It doesn’t matter where we’re _meant_ to die if we end up dying here anyway, Kija.”

“Are you telling me to just give up, then?” Kija challenged, watching as Hak’s expression hardened once more. “Of course not. Now call Yoon and tell him to wait for us by the southernmost bank, east side.”

Having reached a standstill, they held each other’s gazes for one more moment before Hak finally gave him the briefest of nods. It wasn’t in agreement but they’d come to an arrangement. What it would cost him, Kija would have to live long enough to find out.

Stepping inside the cell, Kija quickly realised two things. One, Jae-ha’s crew seemed pretty badly shaken up by the events, some of their morale giving way to looks of uneasiness. Two, with the way they were all looking at him, Kija could tell they had heard every single word from his heated exchange with Hak, resulting in an even bigger plunge to their morale.

He had to do something, say something. With the way everyone seemed to cower into themselves, they wouldn’t stand a chance at surviving the drop even before making the dive.

“You heard right,” Kija said. “It’s a seventy-foot drop to concrete-like water. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy but I’m saying that it _is_ possible. If people have done it before and survived, so can we.”

So why did he sound so unsure even to his own ears?

“If we dive feet-first, we hit the water at the best angle and pierce through. Arms wrapped tight around your body, head down. Don’t fight it as you go under, swim back up only when the water’s taken away your speed.”

He tried to visualise the jump, to imagine the lash of wind and the curl of the water as it wrapped around his body. But try as he might to convince himself, all he could imagine was falling to his death.

“The Mist-Shrouded Cape,” Jae-ha murmured only just enough to hear. He was smiling and despite the pain, perhaps even in spite of it, it was his most devious grin yet. “Where once upon a time young men would jump to prove their love.”

The silence was pierced by a nervous, though no less hearty laugh from Rowen. “Boy, you’re spouting nonsense again.”

“You’ve heard the stories just as well as I have,” Jae-ha argued. “I say, our love is freedom and now’s the time to prove it."

“I say aye! If those love-sick fools did it, what say can’t we?” Maya said. “They have nothing on us.”

“Weren’t you afraid of heights?” Ryou asked with a cheeky grin.

“I’d rather take my chances with fate rather than the guards downstairs, don’t you?”

Listening to their exchange, Kija stumbled upon the simple realisation that these were men who knew fear so intimately that they welcomed it. They didn’t cower in its wake; no, they used it as a guide, like sailors welcoming the wind in their sails. For them, high risk was high reward.

“We’ve worked against worse odds, haven’t we, boys?” Jae-ha said then and it must have been a running joke amongst the crew because everyone laughed.

Saints have mercy on them all because Kija sensed they might need it.

“I’ll loosen the screws,” he said. “Maya, pull down the sheets and help me when you’re done. Shin-ah, I need you to bandage Jae-ha as best you can. The rest of you make sure no one from the lower decks comes uninvited.”

There was a flourish of motion as everyone seemed to come to life, no longer the animated corpses who had felt themselves doomed.

But fear was one thing and doubt quite another. It came in waves now, this dread-like doubt, born from all of the events that had happened in rapid succession before this.

Kija’s hands shook as he tried to loosen the screws. His injured hand was useless, the stitches now torn open and the bandages soaked through. His other one was covered in Jae-ha’s blood, the sight somehow even worse. The screws were getting too slippery now and he was losing his grasp on them.

He was hyperventilating, Kija knew but could not help it. He was a child again and he was a victim of his father’s anger. He was watching Hiyou cut into his arm. He was strapped to Kum-Ji’s chair again, eyes on the mallet and heart in his throat. He was watching on as a mountain of a man lodged his blade into Jae-ha’s side. He was watching as the rioting crowd claimed his body, hands reaching to grab him. He couldn’t think straight and this was his fault. All his fault.

“It’s okay,” someone said then and Kija moved aside as Maya tugged on his shirt to wipe the screws and work them loose. “You’re okay and he’s going to be okay, too. We all are.”

Kija blinked the images away then, partly grateful and partly surprised at this boy who was probably no older than Kija himself but was keeping himself together. Kija looked around — they were all keeping themselves together, even though barely. Shin-ah had a dark look of concentration as he secured strips of cloth around Jae-ha’s injury. Hak was barking into his phone, arms flailing as though Yoon could see him, but even this beast of an agent was not unaffected, he could tell. And Jae-ha? He was looking wordlessly at Kija, eyes half-lidded in pain.

That man was like no one Kija had ever met, nor would he ever meet another like him. He didn’t deserve his kindness, nor his courage or his trust. But he would earn it, now. If he could not bring their freedom to them, he would bring _them_ to their freedom.

And if Kija had come to know one thing about Jae-ha, above all, was that the only way to repay for all that he had done was to return Jae-ha’s freedom to him.

With Maya’s help, they moved the toilet aside, revealing the gap in the wall. All hell had broken loose downstairs, screams and shouts of scuffle travelling from the main deck to the row. Inside the cell, however, time slowed down as everyone abandoned their activities to peer at the hole. Even Hak stopped barking into the phone as he stared at the escape tunnel.

“I’ll be damned,” Rowen said with a whistle. He slapped Jae-ha’s knee playfully, eliciting a small gasp. “You beautiful bastard, you actually did it!”

Jae-ha smiled. “That we did.”

Like the fool he was, Kija felt himself smiling in return. He turned around to stare at the escape route once more as he asked, “Any volunteers?”

There was only a beat of silence until Maya grunted. “Ah, screw it, might as well. It’s been nice knowing y’all!”

“Hardly, you beer thief!” Toku exclaimed, snatching a small laugh from the rest of the crew.

Kija stepped aside to make space for the boy. “Maya, listen. Take a right at the first crossroad, right again on the second, and a left on the last. There’s a large tunnel — from there it’s just a dive right into the ocean. Whatever you do, make sure to dive feet-first, alright?”

Maya nodded, brow already covered in sweat. “Okay, got it. Right, left, right—“

“Right, _right_, left.”

“Of course,” the boy stammered. “Right, right, left, tunnel, ocean. Feet-first. Got it!”

Whether he did or not was questionable, in Kija’s eyes, but he would just have to hope that they didn’t get completely lost. Kija tried not to think how, under different circumstances — _better_ circumstances — it would be Jae-ha leading the crew, with Kija and the agents already pulling out of the prison parking. But instead of Jae-ha, it was Maya who went in first, followed by a seemingly unphased Ryou, a somewhat enthused Tatsu, and a nervous Toku. Rowen clapped Kija across the back before he clambered into the tunnel. If it was meant to be reassuring for Kija or for himself, the boy didn’t know but appreciated it nonetheless.

When Kija turned back around, he saw that Jae-ha was still sitting on the lower bunk, no indication of having moved save for Kija’s distinct impression that he was somehow closer now. Outside of the cell, Hak and Shin-ah were taking turns speaking to Yoon on the phone. Hak was barking something about getting them some civilian clothing and Shin-ah would occasionally cut in to explain what medical equipment Yoon would need to patch up Jae-ha before they moved him to a better location.

The most pressing issue wasn’t time anymore. It was whether Jae-ha’s already injured body would handle the dive, whether his already buckling feet would support his weight as he pierced the water. There was too little room for error and too many _if_s: if another rib wouldn’t give in under the rattling force of the impact, if the force wouldn’t prove fatal considering the wound. 

Jae-ha must have read his expression because he smiled weakly and said, breathless, “You know, staying here doesn’t sound too bad after all.”

“You’ll bleed out and die if you stay here,” Kija deadpanned.

“A fitting end then, wouldn’t you say?”

Kija was ready to drag him by force if need be. “Right, you’re not thinking clearly.”

But as he took Jae-ha arm across his shoulder to help him up and guide him, Jae-ha’s grip on his wrist was stone. The way Jae-ha held him there, in place, Kija thought time might as well have stood still.

Somewhere far away, almost an entire galaxy away, he heard Hak’s impatient voice on the phone. 

“You said they couldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Kija found himself saying in a tiny voice, uttering words that seemed like nonsense even as he said them.

Jae-ha smiled, though there were lines of pain across his forehead. “I guess I pushed my luck too far this time.”

But it was a lie. Kija knew, he knew his cellmate too well by now to know that he wasn’t a man who believed in luck. If anything, Jae-ha struck him as one to shun luck, to chase it away only to prove himself worthy without it. It was a lie and the truth was quite obvious, really. That Jae-ha’s troubles had started the moment Kija had arrived in his life, Kija and his mission.

Wasn’t it painfully obvious to Kija by now, the reason why civilians shouldn’t be involved in their operations? Because Kija’s touch had burned and crumpled those he’d lay it upon.

“It’s a superficial wound. The dive is going to be a breeze,” Kija lied in turn. “We’ll get you patched up, just... let’s just reach the shore and—“

“Kija, I can’t reach the shore,” Jae-ha interrupted him. With his free hand, he ran his fingers across the younger boy’s silver hair, gently, almost as if Kija would run away if he wasn’t careful. “I won’t even make the dive.”

“Yes, you will and you must,” Kija said. “Just stop resisting and let me _help_.”

“You’ve already helped more than anyone else ever has.”

The boy frowned. “Clearly not enough.”

“Clearly,” Jae-ha repeated in a whisper but it was evident that he was chasing the sound rather than the meaning because he wasn’t making any sense.

His gaze was slipping away from Kija’s eyes now and the boy would have been concerned, he would have been, but then Jae-ha’s gaze stopped at his lips. And _oh_, he knew then. He knew, like nothing he’d known before. The thought came to him as easily as breathing.

When Kija opened his mouth, not to speak but to draw a breath before it could be stolen away, Jae-ha leaned forward. Eager like he’d never allowed himself to be before, Kija cupped his nape and drew him nearer. Closer until they were sharing the same stuttered breaths, moving as one. Closer until there was only the warm breath of a smile on Jae-ha’s mouth and the curve of his parted lips. Closer until the closest they could be was no longer enough.

The press of their lips together was a gentle, fragile thing — a truce in the middle of a war. It was not the battle that their lives had known; it was the tenderness that they had been denied. 

Kija wasn’t thinking of what had happened earlier, of what could happen next. This was now and it was endless. This was the kiss he’d been imagining all along. It was a gunshot at point-blank. It was chasing leads and following trails. It was blood. Everything and nothing. A promise, an impossibility.

He inhaled a breath against the copper tinge of Jae-ha’s mouth, his tongue chasing the taste. His mind had emptied but he vaguely thought it fitting, that if he and Jae-ha wanted to have this, it would always be through blood and pain.

Slowly, inevitably, they pulled apart to embrace reality again. Because reality was now and dread was next. It was blood and it was pain.

“Kija,” Jae-ha said, the blue in his eyes appearing near purple in the shadows, “I really hope this isn’t the last time I’m kissing you.”

There was a pause and then Kija felt the exact moment when Jae-ha lost consciousness, his cellmate’s body growing slack against his as the boy braced his weight.

Nothing could have prepared him for the mindless horror of feeling Jae-ha’s body sag lifeless, like a corpse. He must have made a sound, a strangled cry of sorts, because arms were upon him again. This time, they were gentle as Hak squeezed between his neck and shoulder.

“Help me get him through,” Hak told him. “Hold him by the feet and navigate the tunnel, I’ll lift his shoulders. Shin-ah, go last and make sure his head doesn’t hit the floor.”

Kija didn’t turn back to look at the prison as he made for the tunnel, not even for one last time. This prison which had been his blessing and his curse. The one place that had given him the most and taken it away.

Instead, he focused on the path ahead. Tried to, with limited success. He’d spent so many nights here, digging, that his body was moving on its own accord now. The tunnel had never been too tight a squeeze but with three people in a crouch and an unconscious Jae-ha between them now, every inch of the metal casings were digging into them. It was claustrophobic, it was terror clawing at his throat and horror pooling in his gut, but Kija moved onward.

Sunlight streamed in now as the tunnel gave way to the much larger exhaust pipe that would be their way to freedom. And in that moment, all Kija could remember was that one night, which had been only yesterday but felt like a million years ago, when two boys had sat together, pressed from shoulder to toe, and had whispered as though caught in a dream.

His mind was grasping for straws now, every detail suddenly so clear and so important. The stars on the night sky. The scatter of faint sun freckles across Jae-ha’s cheeks. The moon’s light in his eyes. The seemingly ridiculous tale of the Mist-Shrouded Cape from which boys would jump to prove their love for those waiting back for them.

Did the stories seem so ridiculous anymore?

Kija couldn’t pretend he wasn’t part of them now, just another fool taking the plunge in the name of something intangible. It wasn’t love, not entirely; it wasn’t freedom. The answer was somewhere in-between one breath and the next: it was hope for something better.

Then and there, he couldn’t care less how high he’d have to jump or how far he’d have to fall. Perhaps he could still not understand the stories but he knew that he’d jump from anywhere if it meant they’d have a chance of saving Jae-ha. He’d dive with him and he’d protect him from the fall, he’d swim with him to the surface, and carry him across the waves.

Always and forever. Anything, if it meant that Jae-ha would awake to a better dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the questionable laws of physics applied in this chapter. I don't think diving from 70-feet is doable unless you're a competitive diver (the world record is 192-feet, how in the hell??) or you're extremely lucky. But it's a fanfic; I'm allowed to deviate. Newton, don't @ me.
> 
> Anyway, y'all have no clue how long I've been waiting to get to this chapter - it's the very first idea I had and which spurred on the creation of the rest of this story! It's also a special chapter because it marks the end of the Prison Arc, meaning that from now on we're entering a new phase of the story! I'm excited!
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 14 (next week) for probably my most favourite scenes of the fic so far! Have a good week, you beautiful people! :)


	14. A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dear Reader! :) Strap in for a slightly different chapter from what you're used to seeing from this fic! I hope you enjoy it! As always, leave your thoughts in the comments as I absolutely love reading them! :)

—Jae-ha—

The nightmares had first started when he’d been just ten years old and they hadn’t stopped since. Sometimes, he’d had good dreams — dreams where he’d leap into the skies like some legendary dragon from a children’s tale. Jae-ha loved those dreams. The worst were when he dreamt of never being able to move again and people would shackle him to the ground, where he could never push them away or force them to stop.

Those were the worst kind of dreams. Because they often were just memories.

Through the fog of nightmares, he remembered shouts. There were violent winds lashing at his cheeks, there was weightlessness and then a crash, freezing cold like ice seeping into his bones. Vaguely, Jae-ha knew that he should be trying to wake up but his body felt heavy, as if tied to a stack of bricks and left to sink to the bottom of a river. Nightmares like underwater currents swept him away, tore him apart, and drove him under still.

He was in the middle of another dream now and he didn’t know whether it’d be a good or a bad one but he knew better than to expect one with a happy ending. And sure enough, when Garou’s hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes blinked open in front of him, he knew he was in for the worst kind — the one that he could not discern from reality.

Jae-ha was a little kid again and his feet were shackled to reinforced chains.

“This is for your own good,” Garou said. “We don’t want you wandering around while we have guests over, do we?”

He instantly tried to make himself look smaller by pulling up his knees and curling into a ball, an instinct that was hard to override even after so many years. But try as he might to will the floor into bending upon his command and swallowing him outside of Garou’s gaze, Jae-ha was struck with the realisation that he was going nowhere. Nowhere at all.

“Just do whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he felt himself saying the well-practised statement of utter defeat.

This truly was the worst kind of nightmare because so far, it was just a memory, one of many identical ones. And then, just as he’d expected, the image began warping.

Garou remained as he were, as Jae-ha’d last seen him that day he’d finally left that awful town. But Jae-ha was no longer a kid; he was the way he had been when he’d drifted into sleep, and the shackles felt tighter around his ankles, almost tight enough to draw blood. He’d outgrown them but he’d never really grown past them.

He opened his mouth to speak, to curse at the awful man in front of him, to tell him to stay away, to threaten him.

“Just do whatever. I don’t care anymore,” was what left his lips in the end.

Like whiplash, the realisation of surrender was overwhelming. Betrayed, he felt. By himself, worst of all.

Jae-ha wanted to trash against the chains but had no strength. Through the mist of his nightmares, he saw that there was a gash across his stomach. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten it but it had been Garou that had inflicted it. Not this Garou; the other Garou, the one who’d emerged from the crowd of hands and identical faces.

But as this Garou loomed over him, something impossible happened. The door of the room burst open and light streamed in. Jae-ha was blinded, he could barely make out a silhouette but he already knew who it was. He’d hoped it would be him and yet he hated that he was seeing him so weak, so helpless.

“It’s alright, Jae-ha. They can’t hurt you anymore,” Kija said. His Kija. “They can’t do anything to you. Nothing at all.”

But as Kija turned to go, Jae-ha tried to reach for him, to keep him there. His hands passed through mist, Kija’s silhouette in sight but out of reach. Instead, Jae-ha begged, “Please stay.”

“For as long as I can.”

And if Jae-ha needed him forever? Would he stay then too?

The curtain of nightmarish sleep suddenly parted and Jae-ha awoke with a gasp and a cough. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour and each swallow felt like wounded flesh scraping against sandpaper. 

It was dark, almost impossibly so, and he feared he’d awoken to nothingness. Again. Would this turn out to be another nightmare?

“H-hello?” Jae-ha rasped and then tried again, attempting to summon more dignity to his voice, “Anyone there?”

Vaguely, he wondered whether he was dead after all. Jae-ha had always thought that death would be fast and simple, a flash and then nothing. But if _this_ was death, this repeating pattern of his worst nightmares, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. Perhaps it was hell. It was where he belonged.

Suddenly, there was a shuffling of feet in the dark, a door opening to let in light. “He’s awake!”

And just like there’d been nothingness, now it seemed that the world came alive all at once. Jae-ha had to blink away the sudden blindness of the lights and then he was completely lost to the smiles of his family.

Gi-gan’s figure swam into view first, coming to stand closest to him, and he’d never felt more at home than at that very moment. He’d never thought he’d feel so happy seeing the wrinkles on her face or the motherly warmth in her eyes.

“Took you long enough,” she said. “If you ever pull a stunt like that on me again, I’ll make sure to bury you alive, you ungrateful brat.”

Gingerly, Jae-ha took a sip of water when she handed him a glass. The swallow was painful, his throat thick around the liquid. “Would you cry for me if I did?”

“You bastard,” howled Rowen. “You had us worried half to death!”

Jae-ha didn’t feel it appropriate to mention that “half to death” didn’t sound nearly half as bad, considering he felt as if he'd made the whole journey there and back.

“My apologies,” he said but as he turned to look at his crew’s faces, tear-stained and red, all further attempts at levity died in his throat.

Groggily, he peered past their faces, to the very back of the room where the door still stood wide-open. He expected to see Kija right about now, or at least he hoped he would, but judging from how nobody else had come despite the commotion happening in the room, he kept his hopes to himself.

“Can someone please explain what the hell happened?” he asked no one in particular. The beginning of a headache was on the horizon.

“Well, you got shanked.”

“Oh gee, thanks, Maya. Anyone who can actually give me an answer?”

“After you passed out outside the tunnel, those agents carried you to shore.” Rowen’s voice still sounded strained but at least he held some answers. “They had someone waiting for us at the bank — he patched you up once we brought you here. You have him to thank for surviving that wound. Real nasty one.”

Jae-ha didn’t need to ask where ‘here’ was because he recognised the layout of the basement. It was easily one of the crew’s better hide-outs, a small shop on 37th Str with enough space to crash if in need. He hated how his mind blared “compromised location”, an old instinct that would stay with him forever perhaps.

“How long have I been out?” he asked once he regained enough of his bearings to realise just how weak his body felt. A day, at least.

Rowen and Maya exchanged looks but it was Gi-gan who spoke: “Four days.”

“_Four_?” Jae-ha winced. A lot could happen in four days. Saints only knew how much, all of which he’d been all but dead to. “What happened to the ‘three days and we arrange a burial’ rule?”

Gi-gan waved her hand in dismissal. “You awoke a few times. Completely delirious, true, but there was hardly any need to call an undertaker. An exorcist perhaps.” 

Jae-ha didn’t need to hear it from them to know that his death had been a near thing. The scales between life and death had been balanced out, only the feather-light weight of a few minutes perhaps having tipped the scales in favour of life. He didn’t like to think himself lucky but perhaps, just this once, he had been.

“While we’re at it,” Gi-gan said, the nonchalance in her voice feigned, “why don’t you tell me what the bloody hell you were thinking when you decided to assist a _government_ agent?”

The boy could barely suppress a sigh. “I will but that’s a long conversation I’m not having right now.”

Gi-gan nodded, lips pursed, and Jae-ha knew she’d only put the matter to rest for the time being. She’d wait a day, if even, before bringing it up again. And he’d better have a more appropriate answer than his current one: “the agent was hot”.

“Speaking of, where’s Kija?” he made himself ask instead, even though he feared the answer.

Rowen scratched his stubble. “Left this morning after your fever broke.”

“And what time is it now?”

“Evening.”

Jae-ha collapsed into his pillow with a groan. “So, what? He left without a word? That’s cold.”

He really hoped nobody had heard how his voice had just cracked towards the end. Even if they did, they probably assumed it was a result of his current condition. In a way, it was. If heartache could be considered a condition.

“They said it was an emergency from the Bureau,” Ryou added. “I think they were already breaking orders to stay as long as they did.”

“And here I was, thinking all those nights spent together meant something.”

“We don’t need to know!” the crew roared in unison.

His shaky laughter joined the crew’s even as Jae-ha’s heart burned. Because it hadn’t been fair to hope for more, had it? Because Jae-ha had already known none of it would mean a damned thing outside of Awa State Penitentiary’s walls. Because they’d barely shared anything while inside them anyway.

A kiss? Jae-ha had shared more for less. A companionship? He’d hoped. Little good hope had done him, it would seem.

He needed to stop overthinking, or he’d turn himself bitter. And Jae-ha was not a bitter person. The only problem was that when he needed to flee his thoughts, he’d wander outside. With the stitches to his wound still fresh and his head spinning from exhaustion and meds, he could hardly sit up.

It was a full day before Jae-ha could stand without help and yet another few days until he could walk around without feeling like the ground was shaking underneath his feet.

He’d been lucky, they said, that the shank hadn’t shredded his stomach to bits. But Jae-ha could hardly feel lucky when it hurt like his gut had been ripped open and perforated anyway. It would leave one hell of a scar, a reminder that he’d rather not have. Thieves had many scars — it seemed to come with the profession. But Jae-ha liked to keep those things hidden, he didn’t like wearing his scars on the outside for anybody to see. His scars were for him only.

The only semblance of entertainment came when the crew brought in all the rumours from town. Kum-Ji and Kye-Sook had been transported from Awa State Penitentiary to a maximum-security prison in Hiryuu where they’d be serving their life sentences in isolation. Following the Bureau's raid, all businesses affiliated with Kum-Ji had been discovered, the offshore laundering accounts suspended, and the drug cartels and trafficking channels had been shut down. It brought a sense of closure, knowing that every bastard with even the barest of connections to Kum-Ji had been taken into custody. In a way, it was better than anything Jae-ha had hoped for upon entering Awa State Penitentiary.

By the crew’s accounts, the city of Awa seemed livelier than ever, every night a celebration across the city centre. It was exactly Jae-ha’s kind of thing, they assured, but Jae-ha blamed the lack of his usual enthusiasm on the injury. For now, he stood aside and watched.

The crew was changing. Jae-ha didn’t notice it happen until Rowen had sat down one afternoon and begun telling him about a woman. How he’d become enamoured with one of the locals, the old romantic fool. Jae-ha smiled every time he spoke of her, feeling both happy about his friend and yet inexplicably sad at the reminder how distant the idea of a normal life seemed to him. That which Rowen had within his grasp right now, would he ever have a shot at it too?

Would they all eventually find a life and leave him alone, to wander? Would he have to start a crew of his own? Or would he be long dead by then?

Jae-ha was walking down into the basement, trying to avoid the creaky steps for no comprehensive reason other than having memorised them by now, when he heard Gi-gan’s voice.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she was telling someone. “I just don’t know why you haven’t come out with it already.”

Rowen’s voice came next: “It’s not easy saying something like that. You’ve always been family to me, all of you. You know that.”

Careful not to make a noise, Jae-ha pressed himself against the wall and listened. He was fairly certain that this was a conversation meant to be held in private but curiosity was a curse he'd been made to bear and he could hardly resist it.

He heard Gi-gan sigh. “Rowen, when you’ve seen the things I have, one thing becomes clear: no one is a thief forever. There comes a time when you realise that the most important things in life cannot be stolen. Family cannot be stolen, it can only be built.

“You have been my children for years now,” Gi-gan continued, voice warm but firm. “I haven’t raised you to be thieves — you came to me as such. What I’ve raised you to be is passionate. Only passionate men can build strong families. I’ve always known that when the time is right, each of you would find the passion to build a normal life for yourselves.”

Jae-ha’s breath stalled in his lungs as he waited for her to continue, each word a dagger finding purchase in his heart. He felt himself slump further against the wall, his gaze unfocused in the direction of the spider webs cobbled in a corner of the room.

“I just don’t want to leave any of you,” Rowen said.

“You’re not leaving us. What you’re leaving behind is the part of you that’s been trying to convince you that you’re not meant for a happy life. My son, it’s time you allowed yourself the happiness you’re due.”

Silent as the night, Jae-ha extricated himself from where he'd been leaning against the wall and walked back outside, the door to the shop swinging closed behind him in silence. The breeze of a summer night enveloped him, as if in comfort.

‘No one is a thief forever’, he replayed the phrase in his mind. But what if being a thief was the only thing you’ve ever known? What happy life was there for someone like him, who knew only to steal and destroy, the ability to build having never been learned?

The news of Rowen’s decision to leave the crew and settle down in Awa with his newfound love came as a surprise to no one. The rest of the boys had been, as expected, startled by the suddenness of it all, enthusiastic cries and tears of joy, but they, too, had known to expect it. Jae-ha had sat back with one of the more convincing fake smiles on his face and said little, a display which was apparently unusual for him because as the crew left for town, he felt Gi-gan’s questioning gaze following him out of the room.

Within the next few days, a decision had been reached in full: the crew was leaving Awa for the city of Hotsuma and Rowen wasn’t coming with them. Together, the crew decided to have one last night of celebrations in Awa, a goodbye fit for thieves. 

“For the good times we’ve had,” Maya said, raising his pint.

“And for the bad times we’ve somehow survived,” Tatsu chipped in.

Rowen was smiling against the edges of his own glass then, caught between one gulp and the next, the tell-tale flush of alcohol across his cheeks. He was happy, Jae-ha could see as clearly as he could see the sunset before them, and while he envied him for that happiness, he also cherished it. It wasn’t a rare sight to see the crew caught in the glee of a party but it was an exception to see them happy like this, carefree at last. 

Jae-ha would have been a fool not to treasure the moment. He smiled, raising his own glass. “And for the even better times that await.”

Their glasses clinked together, the contents sloshing like waves crashing against the rocks. Soft laughter accompanied the loud cheer and Jae-ha wished for nothing more than for this moment to last longer than it would.

The sun was beating down until the silent arrival of another summer night, its rays painting streaks of fiery red across the sky. Beyond the bar, they had a view of the docks. Colourful boats bobbed against gentle waves and farther out at sea, the small fisher boats were becoming one with the horizon. This was what freedom looked like. Through the strong smell of cigarettes and ale, rushes of sea salt and heated sands twined the early summer breeze. This was what freedom smelled like. Light and airy, jazz travelled between the lively chatter and occasional roar of laughter. And this was what freedom sounded like.

Perhaps this was why they’d fallen in love with freedom in the first place — all of _this_, the endless span of the ocean, the gentle caress of summer breeze, the heartbeat of the crowd. And them, the misfits that had somehow willed this world into making space for them.

The harbour of Awa was swept in another lively celebration, one so loud and bright that Jae-ha found himself drawn towards it as though pulled by the force of gravity. In the middle of the port, people were caught in the ring of a fiery dance, their hands clasped tight together, legs tapping in a beat that Jae-ha could barely hear over the chatter of the gathered crowd. The chain of people was alive, weaving through the onlookers like a snake. He remembered seeing this dance only once before, a traditional celebration for the Awa region, it had seemed at the time. Now, it was much more loose and lively, as if the people were making the moves as they went. If freedom was a dance, this was what it would have looked like, to Jae-ha.

When the chain of people reached him, one of the dancers caught his eye and winked.

“Come on, handsome. Join us,” she said and the chain of hands parted enough to lock arms with him as he moved to join them before they could continue their sweep of the harbour.

Through the blur of motion and the sweet tinge of perfume, Jae-ha recognised Maya as the chain of dancers pulled him in, too. The ring of people was growing now, the whole harbour alive with excitement. The air felt charged with energy, as if Awa had awoken out of a slumber, its rhythm now in perfect sync with the beat of a thousand hearts.

Jae-ha tried not to think how different and yet reminiscent the setting was of the riot he last remembered from Awa State Penitentiary. The way arms had hooked around his had been a death grip then but was liberating now. The way he was in a sea of people now, not caged animals. His heart hammered, not in fear this time, but in excitement.

The chain of people was twisting closer together now. Jae-ha found himself staring back at the girl who’d winked at him earlier and offered a winning smile. She returned the intensity of the gaze and moved to extricate herself from the crowd. Finally, somebody who spoke the language of desire as well as he did. Jae-ha smiled at the thought then, leaving the chain of hands to follow behind her. But she was already gone, swallowed by the crowd. He couldn’t remember what she looked like if he were to follow. Had her hair been red or brown or blond, he could not remember. Did it matter?

With a sigh, Jae-ha turned back around and, having had his fair share of the Awa dance, went to the bar where his crew had gathered earlier. He was not at all surprised to find that from the five crewmates, none remained. Only their boss, Gi-gan, was sat by the bar, facing away from the harbour crowds and towards the dark waves of the ocean.

“May I join you for a drink, boss?” he asked but already knew she would not refuse.

The bar was all but derelict at this point, all its occupants having moved on to the celebrations happening on the streets. He suspected the bars on this side of the harbour would start filling up once more as the night progressed but for now, it was just them and the night breeze.

Gi-gan pursed her lips together. “You can’t ask after you’ve already made yourself comfortable in that chair.”

With a tiny smile, he ordered himself a bourbon-on-the-rocks and turned back to look at her. “My bad, I didn’t realise I had to make a reservation.”

“My, my, prison has turned your cheek even more daring. To think I'd hoped it'd humble you, as if I don't know any better.” Gi-gan eyed him warily. “Why aren’t you out enjoying yourself like the rest of ‘em?”

“I’m afraid my injury is still much too fresh.” He took a tender sip of his bourbon, patting the area below his ribs for emphasis. “I’m pretty sure I would have ripped the stitches open if I continued in my usual style.”

But Gi-gan would not be fooled, not by such a lazy performance. “_Liar_,” she said behind her own glass.

In turn, Jae-ha gave her one of his lazy, lopsided smiles. “Guilty as charged.”

It had been a long time and then some since the two of them had last spoken in private. Jae-ha feared it, in a way, for speaking in private with Gi-gan always seemed to solicit some kind of personal conversation about the truths that he didn’t want to face. She had a way of wriggling them out of him as though she’d poured truth serum in his drink. Right now, especially, Jae-ha wished she’d not demand any truths of him.

And then, just as he’d thought that, she spoke again, oblivious to his inner pleas for peace: “That boy said something to me before he left, you know.”

“Which boy would that be?”

Gi-gan’s gaze was unyielding and he knew she had seen right through him once more. “You can’t fool me any better than you can fool yourself, Jae-ha. You know damn well which boy I’m talking about.”

Of course, there was no use feigning nonchalance anymore. He’d have to go all-out and go broke: “What did he have to say?”

“Well, aren’t you interested all of a sudden?” she asked but Jae-ha didn’t rise to the bait. Gi-gan shook her head, clearly amused. “You may think it unfair that he left, I know you do, but that boy risked his whole career for you. He stayed even when they threatened to court-martial him. Do you know why he left?”

It was a simple admission but it lingered in his throat: "No."

"Because they threatened to put you and the crew back behind the bars if he didn't," she said, her voice sharp enough to cause Jae-ha to look up. "Now, you can mope around all you want but you can hardly blame the boy for making that choice. Had you been in his shoes, you'd have done the same."

Jae-ha sighed into what was now his second glass of bourbon. “If I’d asked for a lecture, you’d know. I asked what he said.”

“So impatient for someone so stubborn, aren’t you?” Gi-gan smiled into her own drink. “It was the morning after your fever broke. Just came up to me and said, ‘When this is over, I’ll find him’. He’s a man of a few words, isn’t he?”

“That he is,” Jae-ha said, though with an easy smile. He laughed. “What a pain. That boy’s nothing but a whole lot of trouble.”

“Said the kettle to the pot.”

It was true, wasn’t it? The whole time they had been in prison, troubles had come flooding. If Jae-ha hadn’t been the one stirring them for a change, then it had been Kija. One after another after yet another. The difference was that outside of prison, in their day-to-day lives, Kija was the one who fixed troubles. And Jae-ha was the one who started them. Like a moth to flame, he found trouble without even setting to look for it. Perhaps it was time to admit it.

“Hey, boss,” he said, swirling the contents of his drink across the edges of the glass, “what if a life of crime is all that you’re passionate about?”

Gi-gan gave him a side-long look. “So you were listening?”

“I happened to overhear.”

“That’s rude, you know. Though I can hardly be surprised,” she said. “My stubborn boy, you only say you’re passionate for a life of crime because you haven’t seen enough of that life to know better. Give it time, you’ve still got much to learn.”

“Wouldn’t it be too late by then?” he asked.

Gi-gan smiled. “Depends how fast a learner you will be. But I have faith in you.”

That night, Jae-ha went back to the flat he'd moved to since abandoning the basement on 37th Str. He opened one of the nightstand drawers, the faint moonlight reflected in the glass dial of a wristwatch. It was the very watch Kija had given him to time the minutes as he’d had to open Kum-Ji’s safe. A memento from what seemed like a lifetime ago. It was nothing, just a silly little watch the Bureau had supplied for him but Jae-ha had never needed much to dream. Silly little watch or not it had survived a stint in prison, a riot, and a plunge to the heart of the ocean. And it had survived. Like hope, it survived.

He'd chucked it in the drawer in a rush of anger, or perhaps in agony — he did not remember. Now, as if in a promise of his own, he strapped it around his wrist. Perhaps he could play the romantic fool for a change. Or if not a promise, then a reminder, to himself, that as long as he still walking the earth, he would be found. A light at the end of this endless tunnel.

Jae-ha and the crew said their goodbyes to Awa and to Rowen, moving to settle in Hotsuma, where a rumoured illegal fighter arena was profiting off the pain of unwilling fighters. There was always more evil to be challenged. A week passed and then a month and the only sign of Kija remained the memory of him from that night when they’d sat at the edge of the tunnel that overlooked the ocean. The memory of that night burned brighter still, of Jae-ha trailing the scars across the boy’s back, like a map of the constellations, each scar a star guiding him somewhere unfamiliar. And if Jae-ha hoped he and Kija would meet again to fight side-by-side in the same battles, he kept it to himself.

In Hotsuma, Jae-ha had found his determination rekindled: Kum-Ji’s absence from the war did not mean that there weren’t other men like him. The time for Jae-ha’s happiness was not now, not against the backdrop of others’ misery.

The fighting pits of Hotsuma were hell on earth if Jae-ha knew one, and Kushibi was the ring-leader. He was the evil and Gi-gan’s crew were his executioners. Another Kum-Ji, another mission. Jae-ha had entered the ring then, keeping the crowd entertained while Ryou had taken aim at Kushibi from an adjacent building. As the bullet had found its path to the ring-leader’s heart, crowd exploding into panic, the rest of the crew had unlocked the cuffs around the fighters’ wrists and set them free. Free to do as they wish and find the happiness that fate owed them.

But for the crew, it was just one stop along the way. How many more people awaited their freedom to be given back to them? How many people had had their happiness taken and locked away? No, now was not the time for Jae-ha to be pursuing his own selfish reasons. He hadn’t seen enough, hadn’t _done_ enough yet. Later, he would wish for Kija to find him.

Later, later, later. When would this ever be over? Once there was no evil left?

“This never ends, does it?” he’d asked once they were back on the road, the city of Hotsuma merely a reflection in the mirror. “It’s like these bastards are being mass-produced faster than we can kill them.”

Gi-gan had looked at him funnily. “No, it never ends. Thought you most of all should know.”

Jae-ha’s eyes had snapped to the road ahead again. Gi-gan was the only one he’d ever trusted enough to tell about Garou and that awful town where he’d grown up. No, there was always evil. It was just that some people were better at seeing it: those were usually the ones who’d experienced it first.

In the quiet hours of the night, Jae-ha sometimes thought about Kija’s words: “When this is over, I’ll find him”. It seemed so simple and yet so incredibly impossible. It had seemed like a promise, at first, but a promise was just words, words sharpened like double-edged blades. Now, it seemed like the greatest joke that the universe had played on him. Because if _this_ was over, the next would just begin. If he wanted to be found and led away, would it be at the expense of someone else’s happiness? If Kija appeared by the side of the road tomorrow, would Jae-ha be ready to leave the world to the kind of evil that lurked at every corner?

Later, Jae-ha would want to be found. Later, always later. When? Once he’d fought enough battles?

After two months on the road, when they had settled in a town on the border with Xing, Jae-ha began having doubts that ‘later’ would come at all. He was scared to admit it, had been for a while now, but it was getting more and more difficult to continue harbouring hopes of something better when all it did was cause him pain.

The world was a spectacularly messed-up place. Jae-ha had thought he’d seen hell but there, in the town across the border from Xing, he was forced to reconsider. He’d seen the chains on the people’s ankles and wrists, and he had gotten careless. His blind rage unleashed upon the trafficking ring’s leader, Gobi, another sick bastard like all the rest of them, Jae-ha had lost control. Together, the crew had laughed off the wounds he’d gotten in the fight against Gobi and his men but Maya had given him a concerned look that Jae-ha wished he hadn’t seen.

When he’d first joined Gi-gan’s crew, they had simply been thieves who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Now, they were thieves who stole lives. He could no longer deny that he wasn’t the same person Kija had met, the same person that Kija had said he’d want to find. If he found him like this, he would find a Jae-ha with far too much blood on his hands.

Half-a-year came and rolled by, the cold tang of December rearing its ugly head at last. The crew had returned to Awa to spend time with Rowen and his soon-to-be bride, the warmth of their home entirely unfamiliar to Jae-ha. He’d only felt like he truly belonged once they’d made their way to Saika for the next mission.

“What a terrible man,” Toku said while they were in the middle of digging up leads on parliamentary representative Soo-Jin. “Parading like some saint for the people and yet orchestrating some of the most gruesome assassinations out there.”

Tatsu shook his head. “I’m honestly so sick of this world.”

“That’s cause you boys let it get to you,” Jae-ha said from where he was sitting, casting one last glance at the map-prints of Saika’s warehouse district. “Get yourselves beers for the night and watch the game.”

“What about you?”

Jae-ha stood to gather his coat. “With so many beautiful ladies in this city, you can’t possibly expect me to stay in.”

Maya and Toku exchanged looks but said nothing. They’d learned not to say anything by now.

As the giant clock tower struck midnight, Jae-ha went out in search of a bar. His coat billowed around him in the wind, snowflakes wrapping around his body like a scarf.

He told himself he was fine. He had gotten better at not thinking about anything unnecessary. “No one is a thief forever”. Perhaps, but forever was a long time and Jae-ha’s life as a thief was only just beginning. Once it was over, perhaps he would want to be found.

Later. Always later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that the country I've recently moved to has shut down all activity due to coronavirus, I have two weeks to spend at home and not lose my mind! On a side note, if any of the places where you live are affected, hope you're doing okay and coping alright!
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit different and slightly more melancholic but I still loved writing the crew's interactions and especially Gi-gan, she has been such an amazing character and I love her so much! Next week, we'll be seeing what Kija has been up to so stay tuned for Chapter 15! :)


	15. The Man in Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, dear Reader! Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

—Kija—

The time was merely an hour before the strike of a new day but the night was still young and Kija was dressed to leave. Through the gaps in the blinds, he could see the agent already stationed outside, waiting for Kija to slip up, always waiting. Tonight, he’d be getting a run for his money.

With the lights left on and the jazz playlist looped on repeat, Kija snatched his keys and rushed out in a blur. The hurried slap of the dirty old sneakers against concrete accompanied his descent of the emergency staircase. The lights blinked overhead, casting ugly shadows. It felt almost natural to make a break for it, to run as fast as his feet could carry him, but he could not or he’d risk his cover. He was already risking everything else.

At the edge of the back doors, Kija tucked a few loose strands of hair behind his ear and draped the hoodie over his cap. He brought the peak of the hat down. Forward he went then, past the exit of the building, and walked on, eyes trained on the ground.

He would not, absolutely could not, allow himself to look in the direction of the black car parked just in view of his flat. If he did, this might as well be over before it had even begun. 

The man, one of Joo-Doh’s agents surely, hadn’t even bothered to be subtle. Unlike the last ones who had come before him, this one hadn’t hidden when he’d first followed Kija from Hiryuu to Saika, and he wasn’t hiding now. Kija wondered how well he’d been briefed and if he would even know to expect the Bureau’s put-together detective dressed like a junkie looking for his fix. The usual suit had gone in favour of a hoodie and the once tight black jeans now bucked and bunched at the knees. The leather shoes had been disregarded for his college sneakers, an old pair that had seen a few years’ worth of wear and tear. Would the agent be expecting that Kija would go to such great lengths to evade his supervision? If he didn’t, he should have been briefed better on Kija’s past attempts.

But Kija had been even more careful than before. Of course, a man of his profession had reason to be but even more so now that Kija was also a man under investigation from the Homeland Security Bureau. He’d had to learn new tricks. He’d had to adapt. 

Back in the rented-out apartment, Kija had left behind the tracking chip from his work phone and the Bureau-issue wristwatch which he knew carried another tracking device. But he’d done that before and it hadn’t been enough, the lack of movement having raised the agents’ suspicions immediately. This time, he’d placed them on top of a Roomba, for good measure, and left it roaming the flat.

It had always been said that, to be a good detective, you had to learn to think like a criminal and Kija hadn’t needed much inspiration when he had once had the perfect example.

Had he had more time, he would have taken more precautions but Kija was in a hurry. He could not stop himself even if he wanted to. It had been too long, he had grown too desperate, and fate had finally smiled down upon him.

He moved through the dark alleyways of Saika unseen, his silhouette becoming one with the shadows of the night. The streets were near-deserted and if he encountered people in his path, they looked away and sped up as they walked past. No one wanted anything to do with him, suspicious for all the wrong reasons. But sometimes, you had to stand out to blend in.

Snow was coming down upon the city of Saika now, first in tiny flakes and then in sheets, casting a blanket over the already frost-swept ground. Fresh footprints were being covered faster than they could leave a mark, as though the snow couldn’t be quick enough in its eagerness to erase all traces of existence. Kija’s worn sneakers gave tiny squeaks against the crunching of the snow, their rubber soles slippery. His breath was coming out in puffs of steam now, the cold seeping through the layers of sweater and hoodie, but he cared little about his own comfort. He’d been walking on eggshells this whole time; comfort had long since ceased to be an option.

Kija maneuvered through the streets towards one of the more questionable parts of town where he knew he would look as though he belonged, dressed as he were. No one looked at him here, not unless he’d approach them first and he had no intention of doing so.

The fix he was after tonight was of very different nature and he’d waited six long months to get it.

Walking past one of the electro clubs, Kija pushed through a small crowd in wait for their free-before-midnight entry, everyone jumpy on their feet as the comeup from whatever they had taken came rolling in. Here, in the middle of Saika’s darkest secrets, he’d raise nobody’s suspicions. No one would question why he walked fast and cut through the road without looking both ways. No one would wonder why he’d glance back over his shoulder at every corner. And no one would dare follow unless they wanted trouble.

Perhaps he should have found it ironic that he felt more like a detective now that he was acting like a common criminal. His profession did leave much to the imagination, after all.

Kija glanced back once more before he pulled out his phone, his precautions unneeded but not unwarranted. He ran through the VPN and used Zeno’s username and password to log into the tracker, punching in the code he had memorised all too well by now.

The result was a small dot on the map of Saika, the location merely five blocks away now. He’d become so used to seeing it throughout the country — in Awa, in Hotsuma, next to the border to Xing, and now, finally, close to Kija by some miracle of fate.

That he’d known Jae-ha’s location all along was the only secret he’d managed to keep away from his superiors. And that, too, had been by chance, by the sheer near-unbelievable chance that Jae-ha had decided to keep the Bureau-issue wristwatch, all of which had trackers installed in them by way of manufacturing. Why Jae-ha had done so was beyond Kija’s line of understanding but had it not been for that simple watch, he’d have had little hope, if any.

Of course, his actions had caused quite the stir within the Bureau’s lines. He knew Captain Mun-Dok didn’t care much for the means if the result was satisfactory but Captain Joo-Doh had all but wanted to prosecute him for abusing the powers given to him by the task force. It had taken all of Shin-ah and Hak’s testimonies to Kija’s invaluable contribution in the war against Kum-Ji to save him by the skin of his teeth but even then, he was facing investigation from Joo-Doh’s unit. Any suspicion, any call to a suspicious person, any meeting with undisclosed persons, and Kija would be on his way to a trial.

But one could not expect Kija to stand still once he’d checked the tracker yesterday and seen the tiny dot on the screen, closer to him than it ever had before.

The walk through town was slow and agonising in a way much worse than anything else had been the six months prior. So close, so very close. The way forward was plagued with hope and worry, and anticipation, and fear, and all those emotions which Kija had somehow never thought he’d have to experience all at once.

Jae-ha, too, it would seem, was on the move. The tracker faded in and out as his location updated, and for the first time, Kija wished he’d just sit still. But it was Jae-ha, after all, and standing still had always been an impossible feat for the man.

Kija simply picked up his pace, ignoring the tired squeak of his sneakers against the snow.

He hadn’t planned this, had instead acted on some impulse when he’d seen the marker update yesterday with a location in Saika. He hadn’t planned what he’d say or do but it hardly mattered at present. He wondered what Jae-ha looked like now, outside and free. The memory of Jae-ha as he’d been the day they escaped, unconscious and bleeding, as Yoon worked on patching up his wound, still burned in Kija’s mind. And the memory of a barely conscious Jae-ha pleading Kija to stay came haunting, worst of all.

And he would have, oh, he would have...

Kija rounded the corner on Setsuna Street, the bars and pubs around him brimming with people at this hour. Beyond the curtain of apartment buildings, there was only one block separating him from where he wanted to be most in the world right now. Even though he wished to fly, his feet could not carry him any faster. And despite the freezing Saika winter, his body could not have felt any warmer.

There was a sudden buzz in his hand and his heart leapt in his throat. Looking down, he saw his phone flashing with an incoming call.

‘Hak’, the screen informed him. But he’d have to wait. Kija’s fingers hovered over ‘decline’ and swiped to reveal the tracker. He’d not let anything interrupt him, not tonight, not right now.

Kija wished he could glean past the next corner before he’d even taken the curve. Patience had always been his virtue but it had been running thin. In fact, it had run out four months ago when he’d nearly given up hope he’d ever be able to contact Jae-ha without alerting Joo-Doh.

The phone rang in his hand again but he declined without even looking to know it was Hak again.

No one could take this away from him, not this.

And as he rounded the corner, he saw him. Even half a street over and merely a silhouette in the night, there was no mistaking Jae-ha. Even if he wasn’t in the awful prison-issue jumpsuit, even if his hair had grown longer and his back was to him. Of course, Kija remembered that back, and even if all that he could see of it was covered in a long tailor-cut coat, he remembered it well enough from all the nights he’d spent staring at it as they descended the tunnels, Jae-ha in the lead. And he remembered that green of his hair, emerald in sheen against the moonlight, and he’d never mistake it, even as it were now, gathered in a long ponytail. 

Kija hadn’t expected to get cold feet now but it was suddenly so difficult to move forward. He hadn’t the voice to shout out so he simply willed his body to carry him there.

Almost half a street over, Jae-ha paused before the next corner and looked over his shoulder. Kija should have had the sense to hide but it wasn’t him that Jae-ha’s eyes were seeking. A few feet away, between him and his former cellmate, a man halted in his tracks and veered into one of the dark alleyways. Jae-ha picked up a more rapid pace.

Kija’s mind suddenly flooded with warning bells, an instinct acquired from his profession that was at present both overwhelming and confusing. Something was wrong, that much he could tell.

He stood there, in the middle of the street, his mind torn between following Jae-ha or the man in black. 

His phone rang again and this time, Yona’s name flashed at him.

“Yes?” the boy answered, his voice low as he descended the alley in pursuit. It had hardly been a choice. Kija was a detective, he followed trouble and for what it was worth, trouble always seemed to follow Jae-ha, that much he’d known since the very beginning. What he needed to find out was how deep the trouble ran this time around.

“You weren’t picking up,” Hak’s voice came on the other side of the line. “Or is that only when I call?”

Kija pressed against the farthest wall as he moved, his body becoming one with the night shadows. A single neon exit sign painted the bricks opposite him in green. 

“Yona would only call at this hour if it were an emergency,” he said.

“And what else do you think I’m calling for?”

His breath held in his lungs, Kija peered from behind a corner. The man in black weaved through the labyrinth of alleyways, a barely concealed limp made more prominent with the hurried pace as he moved to get back on Jae-ha’s path.

Was he an agent, perhaps? Was Kija simply being paranoid? Or had the agency indeed sent a man after Jae-ha too? Had Joo-Doh’s subordinate noticed a flaw in Kija’s plan and alerted the rest? He needed answers and he intended to get them.

“Are you there?” Hak asked again.

Kija’s gaze followed the man even as he remained pressed against the wall. “I’m busy.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“It’s midnight.”

“And this isn’t a five-to-nine kind of job,” Hak interjected. “The meeting’s been moved.”

Kija stopped, hovering between one patch of shadow expanse and another. “Why?”

“We don’t know. Soo-Won’s working on finding out what tipped them off.”

Interesting. But Kija hadn’t the faintest desire to think of the mission that had them stationed here in Saika. He had a mission of his own.

“The local PD?”

“We don’t know,” Hak repeated. “I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Now?” Kija asked.

“Now. The meeting’s in an hour. Our men are already scoping the place.”

Kija watched in morbid curiosity as the man in black left the cover of a corner and careened back onto the main street, Jae-ha’s silhouette barely visible through the gusts of snow in front of them.

In the new light, the man looked to be neither an agent, nor a thug. Too rough around the edges to be one of the Homeland Security agents, his walk too heavy and his build nothing like the type of men who got recruited for Joo-Doh’s surveillance task force. Too nicely dressed, in that near-match of a mafia suit, to be a random thug looking for an easy victim, far too intent on following Jae-ha and Jae-ha alone.

This man, he was something else altogether. He was more trouble than Kija had expected, if he knew enough to tell. And judging from the bunched-up fabric around the man’s hip, he was more trouble than Kija had prepared to take on tonight.

“I’m on the corner of Majima Avenue and 56th,” the detective spoke into his phone, the vague outline of a plan already forming in his mind. “And Hak, bring one of the PD’s cruisers.”

There was a pause. “What for?”

“Just bring the cruiser,” Kija informed him and promptly hung up.

He moved silently, joining the main street behind the man in black. For every step the man took, Kija matched his pace, footfall for footfall. And if the winter gale lashed at his cheeks, he thought nothing of it, just this, just what came next and what would come after that, too. And if the night was cold enough to freeze his fingers over, he felt none of it either, the near-frantic beat of his heart enough to pump blood twice as fast as usual.

By now a full street away, Jae-ha was barely a silhouette. Kija watched as he walked past another alleyway and veered into the main road of 56th. Kija saw him pause once, long enough to confirm the man’s presence still behind him, and _then_.

Jae-ha took off into a full sprint. The man, too, broke into a run, his hand flying to his hip. 

Kija changed track abruptly, dashing off the main street and through the maze of alleyways. In the split of a second, he was calculating the man’s trajectory. He’d do little if he chased behind but if he could cut off the man’s path, if he could intercept him—

There was a muffled crack like thunder, that unmistakable whiz of a gunshot. In a daze, Kija realised he hadn’t even bothered to bring a knife to what was now a gunfight. He picked up pace to a straining run, his rubber soles sliding against the snow. The alleyways were dark and twisting, confusing spirals and he didn’t have time for wrong turns or deadends. It was pitch-black between the tall walls enclosing him. He skittered to a halt at a crossroads and followed blindly to the left until he recognised Jae-ha’s blurred silhouette rush past the exit to the main street. Kija ran, his heart in his throat — ran like the world was about to end.

Crossing the edge of the alleway, Kija bolted onto the main street again. He tried to look around until he couldn’t, until he was colliding with the man in black, until they were both rolling across the snow. Kija felt the press of air leave his lungs as his back connected to the ground, the sheets of snow only doing so much to cushion the impact.

He stood up on his feet, his gaze unfocused first and then landing on the metal glint of the man’s gun which had slithered just outside of reach. The two made to grab it, a race of speed until both had closed their hands around the pistol and it became a trial of strength. Kija felt the man’s fingers clamp over his own and twist, his own bones suddenly brittle underneath. 

It was messy. It wasn’t how Kija had wanted this to go.

This close, the gunshot was loud. It rang clear against the silence of the night as the man’s fingers found the trigger and pushed down on it a second time. 

Someone from the adjacent buildings shouted. Kija felt the windows nearby shudder, the glass vibrate against its frames. 

The muzzle flash was blinding but Kija didn’t need to see to throw a punch. He pulled his elbow back and caught the man somewhere across the nose, if the crunch was anything to go by. The force sent the man reeling back, back until they both hit one of the big garbage tanks and toppled to the side. There was a clatter as the gun fell out of their grasp.

Sirens were coming in now, somewhere close by. Kija only had half the sense to hope they’d find them before the man made another grab for his gun.

“Who sent you?” Kija asked as the man tried to stand but his limp was much too bad from the strain and he remained on the ground.

When no answer came, the detective crouched down, shaky on his own two feet, and hooked an arm around the front of the man’s suit.

“What’s it got to do with you?” the man hissed back. “You aren’t one of them. Leave now if you know what’s best for you, punk.”

But Kija’s other hand was already racing forward in anger, in fury. He clamped his fingers down on the man’s shoulder, his grip iron-clad. The man folded like a pocket-knife under the pain from Kija’s crushing hold. There was a sickening pop as the shoulder dislocated; a scream tore itself free from the man’s mouth when Kija didn’t loosen his grip.

“Who sent you?!” he roared again and this time, the world around him flashed in white and red. “I won’t ask again!”

“Gobi,” the man howled. “We have a blood debt to collect!”

Shaking his head, Kija tightened his grip again, steel-like. “Who—?”

“Freeze!” someone behind them said and Kija’s head snapped in the direction of the voice.

The curtain of blindness from the muzzle flash had parted now, enough that Hak’s frame came into view. His face read utter confusion as he stood there, gun pointed at the two men on the ground, lights flashing from the cruiser behind him.

“Kija?” asked Hak, some of the confusion evident in his voice.

“You brought the cruiser,” the detective noted, eliciting a gasp from the man in black upon the release of his grip. “Get the cuffs, we’re taking him in.”

The agent seemed to hesitate, something which he had never seen him do before. At the same time, he understood why. Dressed as Kija was and with no explanation of why he was here or why he was taking this man into custody, Kija supposed he’d hesitate if he were Hak, too. But after a second, Hak complied, silent as ever. Questions would come later, Kija knew, though he could not hope to provide answers when he had none.

Kija dropped to pick up the gun for evidence while Hak brought the mysterious man in the back of the police cruiser. As he stood, the detective caught the faintest glimpse of a shadow across one of the roofs overlooking the street. But it was gone the second after, gone with the lash of winter wind.

Neither of the agents said anything as Kija clambered into the cruiser and shut the door behind him. The divide between where the man in black was seated and the two agents at the front was pulled up, though it offered little privacy in terms of conversation.

Hak pulled on 56th and set towards the team’s temporary office, Saika’s PD station. Even as he drove, agent Hak stole glances at the man in the back and then at Kija.

“One of these days, you’re going to have to start telling me what’s going on,” Hak said as they merged into the highway, though there was hardly any traffic at this time. 

Kija sighed, his eyes following trails of snowflakes as the cruiser blazed through them. His mind was already whirling. This whole thing seemed off. 

“Nothing was going on until tonight and even now, I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said. His instincts told him that he should rejoin the rest of the crew as fast as he could, that there was more to this than one man in black and his former cellmate’s sudden reappearance. “I just know that this is far from over.”

That Jae-ha was here in Saika when a big meeting between crooks was happening was suspicious on its own. That someone else had compromised the location of the meeting was damning evidence already. But that there seemed to be yet another party involved was another story altogether.

Did it all boil down to this, tonight’s meeting between Li Hazara and Soo-Jin? It would explain why Jae-ha and his crew were in town, as well as why Hazara had changed the time and location of the original meeting.

But what did a man in black and an unknown person by the name of Gobi have to do with any of this?

“Does the name ‘Gobi’ mean anything to you?” he asked.

“Can’t say I’ve heard it before.”

Kija squeezed his eyes shut, his mind reeling back and forth, each thought that hit a deadend causing his frustration to spiral into dread. “Me neither but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

By the time Saika’s police station came into view, both Hak and Kija were on edge, wound tight like strings ready to snap. The tension in the car was near-palpable, what with Kija trying to make sense of what had happened and Hak burning to ask questions that he knew he could not in front of the mysterious man.

Saika’s police station may have been nothing like the Bureau’s headquarters in Hiryuu and for the first time since they’d been assigned here, Kija was glad for it. He couldn’t have had the patience to wait for the elevator to take them to headquarters’ 54th floor. Here, they simply had to run up the stairs, taking them two at a time in haste.

They’d left the man in black locked in one of the cells, for now or at least until tonight’s mission was over and they could figure out what to do with him. Attacking an officer was no good grounds for his arrest, not after Kija had attacked first, but Kija’s suspicions would have to make do for an overnight stay behind bars.

“Status report,” Hak said to the room as they entered through the double-doors to find the rest of the agents already there.

Yona peered at them from behind a pile of paperwork. She raised her eyebrows at the state of Kija’s disarray but did not comment.

“Hazara’s men got wind that their original time and location was compromised,” Soo-Won supplied dutifully. “It wasn’t the Bureau and it wasn’t the local PD either. I just got off the phone with them.”

Kija nodded because of course, he had already known. This only confirmed his suspicions that Jae-ha’s crew was somehow involved in this. Then, did this Gobi have something to do with Hazara and Soo-Jin too? Was the Bureau going in for more than they’d bargained for?

“They changed the meeting to the warehouse district. It’s happening at 0200 hours,” Zeno said.

“A team was already dispatched to do a swoop before we move in,” Soo-Won added. “Get changed into gear, we’re loading in the trucks in fifteen.”

Kija wondered whether he should speak or remain silent. To speak would mean telling them about Jae-ha, that he was here and that Kija had gone to try and see him.

He pondered this dilemma as he followed Hak to the small locker room where their gear waited. The vest went on over his shirt and Kija vaguely wondered if tonight was the night when it would finally be riddled with bullets. If they were walking into a trap and his suspicions would have helped them predict it, his silence would be dooming. Would him remaining silent cost the team an advantage? Would it cost them their mission, their lives?

Would him speaking cost Jae-ha’s freedom? If he spoke now, would Joo-Doh’s warnings come true, that if Kija were to make contact with him, they’d lock them all behind bars again?

“Right now, we have a mission,” Hak said as he watched Kija put on his gloves and the protective caps over his knees. “And it’s important we do it right or Li Hazara and Soo-Jin run free. Focus on that. Later, I’ll help you sort this mess out if you need me.”

Later. Would later be too late? Right now, as it were, Kija didn’t know what either alternative would cost him. 

As the team loaded into the back of a van, Shin-ah driving at the front, Kija took a spot between Hak and Soo-Won, with Yona, Yoon, and Zeno on the other side.

Soo-Won eyed Kija wearily as the engine roared to life and the van began its transit to the warehouse district. “You’re distracted,” he noted.

Zeno hummed. “Of course he’s distracted. He went to see mister.”

“A mister?” Hak asked, eyes narrowed. “What mister? The man who shot at you?”

“Someone _shot_ at you?” Yona asked, her voice pitching in dangerous levels.

“The green-haired mister from Awa,” said Zeno in that distinct accent of his, not at all appearing as bothered as Yona.

Kija’s heart skipped a beat and a second after, thumped with renewed vigor. “How did you know about that?”

“First, you tell Zeno to keep tabs on him. Then, you expect Zeno not to question why someone uses Zeno’s username and password to track him?” Zeno shook his head. “You’re one interesting lad, mister.”

“What have you gotten yourself into again?” Kija didn’t need to look at Hak to know the other boy had a look of death. “You idiot, Joo-Doh’s got men stationed in front of your flat, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re for sure getting shipped off to northern Kai now,” Yoon muttered solemnly from the other side of the van.

Hak laughed bitterly. “Oh, this keeps getting better and better! And what role does that other man play in the picture? Question your virtue?”

“Yes, can we all please come back to the fact that somebody _shot_ at Kija?” Yona said again.

Kija opened his mouth to speak but what words came out of his mouth could not have been stopped even if he’d tried. “Jae-ha and his crew are in Saika and I have every reason to suspect they’re here for the same reason we are — Hazara and Soo-Jin’s meeting. I also suspect they were the reason why the meeting was changed. Hazara may not know we’re on his track but he knows to expect some resistance.”

The looks on the team’s faces varied, from Hak’s broody expression to Yoon’s panic-stricken face. Soo-Won, however, seemed to already be thinking one step ahead. “And the man who shot at you, is he with Hazara then?”

“I don’t know who he is,” the detective confessed. “He said he’s with someone by the name of Gobi.”

“A fourth party?” Soo-Won mused. “Then, we’d better strap in for an interesting night.”

The van came to a stop, a knock from the front against their side of the van signalling that they had arrived. Hak stood to press a chaste kiss to Yona’s lips before the agents exited from the back of the van, moving quickly in a single file. Outside, Shin-ah joined them, half-hidden in the shadows of the night.

Zeno tapped his intercom twice before announcing to the rest of the group: “Hazara and Soo-Jin’s men have also arrived on site.”

“Any sign of the big two?” Hak asked.

“Give it time,” Soo-won spoke evenly. “They’ll show.”

The group split up, with Kija and Hak taking the front. Together, the two moved as silently as the snow which crunched underneath their boots would allow them, backs hunched forward so as to stay hidden behind the metal containers. They consulted the blueprints once before moving from the east, slowly inching their way to the centre of the district where containers stood stacked like a tall, slender building. Moonlight streamed from behind the clouds, casting highlights upon the piling snow and shimmering reflections against the metal craters. 

Kija’s heart beat steadily, perhaps ominously so. His body felt coiled like a snake sensing danger. He was waiting for a blow to come rushing from the curtain of darkness, for shadows to dart in places where they’d not be expected, for the wind to break this unnatural silence.

And yet, what came was much worse in ways that he had not entirely predicted. As Kija watched Hazara and Soo-Jin’s men gather at the centre of the district, he felt his intercom buzz faintly.

“We have a problem,” Zeno’s voice came through the coms. “There are snipers on the roof.”

Hak turned around to face Kija, his face cast in deep shadow. “Are the snipers friendly?”

There was a second when Kija could not answer, there was a sinking moment where he realised this night had already gone horribly, horribly wrong and he could not stop it from getting worse.

“Tell me,” Hak said again. “Are they with Jae-ha or are they with Hazara?”

But the answer burned like acid against his tongue. Because Kija didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a bit later than expected as I'm currently very ill so everything is taking twice as long. I really enjoyed writing this chapter and if I had felt any better, I would have probably edited it better (I might go back and edit it a bit in a few days). But regardless, I like dark and gritty detective stories and I'm glad this fic is starting to take this direction
> 
> Next week, Ch 16 will be shedding some light on this chapter's mysteries so stay tuned! As always, thanks for reading! :)


	16. A Kiss with a Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! Hope that you're all safe now that the current pandemic is raging across most of the world! <3

—Jae-ha—

The wind was lashing at his side as Jae-ha stood perched atop one of the lower buildings of the warehouse district in Saika. Several stories below him, men rushed like pawns atop a chessboard that only he could see, just puppets on strings that stretched invisible to all but Jae-ha.

He narrowed his eyes to look through the night scope of his rifle. There was more to sniping than just centering the reticle on the target. It was an art in itself. He'd learned that a good sniper must not only know his gun inside-out but that he must know how to read the wind, how to bend the laws of gravity, and how to sink the bullet in the flesh at will. Normally, he’d not be the one with the sniper. It’s not that he wasn’t any good at it but he preferred close-range combat. There was something oddly satisfying about blade-work, the freedom it gave those who knew how to wield a dagger, how to draw and when to swing — call him old-fashioned.

But tonight, they had two targets and while Ryou was aiming for Li Hazara’s head, Jae-ha was lining the shot with Soo-Jin’s. The crew was stationed in various degrees of distance between them and where the deal was taking place. From his vantage point, Jae-ha could easily make out the rest of the team; they’d arrived early enough to settle in before Hazara and Soo-Jin’s men could arrive on site. Jae-ha himself had been running late, though not of his own volition this time around.

The night was as cold as the very heart of the ocean. A bitter wind swept from the west, lashing at Jae-ha’s long hair. With a steady hand, he tugged a few loose locks behind his ear.

“Kaizoku One, are you in position?” Maya asked over the coms, addressing Jae-ha by the old code they’d been using for the past few years.

“Indeed, though I told you to call me ‘Flying Pirate’ from now on, did I not?”

Maya sighed into his earpiece. “A simple ‘yes’ would do, Kaizoku One.”

Jae-ha smiled. It would, but where was the fun in that?

With a cock of his brow, he took out two subsonic rounds from his right pocket, sliding one into the clip. Even though he didn’t use a sniper often, he had to admit this one was truly a marvel, recoil offset by a heavy barrel and accuracy unmatched by any other manufacturer out there. He was no expert, sure, but he’d dabbled in the past and he’d proven a fast learner. With Rowen no longer part of the crew, Jae-ha was now their second-best shot.

“Kaizoku Five, what’s your status?” Maya was checking up on Ryou now, who had gone oddly, though not uncharacteristically, quiet over the past few minutes.

“Don’t have a clear view, need to change position,” came the answer. “Damn that man, why can’t he stand still for five seconds?”

“Take your sweet time, darling. Grab me coffee along the way, why don’t you,” Jae-ha spoke into his earpiece.

“Damn you too, Kaizoku One.”

Sufficiently entertained, Jae-ha peered through his scope to assess the situation below. While Hazara and Soo-Jin loomed around the innermost ring of the district, police officers circled the outer rings like vultures waiting to steal a peck. Jae-ha’d seen a fourth van park up underneath the shadows of a larger container down by the east entrance, this van larger than the rest. Just how many people had the police involved in their little raid? The entire task force residing in Saika, it would seem.

He would never admit it, least of all to himself, but maybe he was watching the events unfold with some sliver of hope that he’d see a boy with silver locks of hair. After all, that boy was here, in Saika.

And really, what were the odds that he was here on a sightseeing tour?

“The PD’s brought in more men, it’s gonna get messy any minute now,” Jae-ha informed the crew. “If Kizoku Five doesn’t get into position soon, I can make both shots from here. What’s your call, Captain?”

Up above, the moon ventured behind a thick scatter of clouds. Down below, snow was piling up, sheet over sheet over the frozen ground. The fourth van’s doors swung open now, agents climbing out, in gear, guns out. They scattered in teams of two and three, their silhouettes black as though they were some night-time demons, shadows from the last circle of hell.

The static in his com clicked. “I’m already taking a gamble by trusting you with one shot, don’t push your luck.”

Jae-ha saw flaming red, an agent’s hair caught in a patch of light as the teams moved closer to the inner ring of the warehouse district.

“You wound me,” he said, eyes trained on following the agents’ movements. “I’ll have you know I was doing warning shots for the yakuza a while back.”

“That doesn’t mean you actually had to aim for their head though,” Maya spoke solemnly.

Jae-ha hummed, suddenly restless. “How about I use _your_ head for target-practice?”

“Right, I’ve had enough of your bickering, you dollopheads!” Gi-Gan said, her order final and definitive. “What the hell are the two bastards talking about now?” she asked, no doubt referring to Hazara’s very enthusiastic hand-gesturing.

“The new soapland venue in the pleasure district,” said Tatsu who was using a scope to read their lips.

Maya clicked his tongue, the sound magnified through the static of the coms. “Kaizoku Five, report.”

“Setting up on the next roof over.” There was a great deal of panting involved. “One minute.”

The time was barely past two in the morning and the thermometer read -8°C. Though the weather conditions were far from perfect, the wind favoured his position and only a slight correction to the left was needed to compensate for any resistance on the bullet’s trajectory. He had the benefit of a good vantage point and static targets. Above all, Jae-ha had something more, because a sniper needed one last thing — _luck_ — and for Jae-ha at least, luck seemed to favour him as of late.

“Oh, they’re talking business now,” spoke Tatsu. “Hazara’s talking about the trafficking ring.”

Time slowed down as Jae-ha relaxed his body, eased his breath. He inhaled and exhaled. In. And out.

“Kaizoku Five?”

Jae-ha squinted at his target through the scope.

“In position.”

His finger gripped the trigger but did not pull. Not yet. 

“Wait for Soo-Jin to hand him the briefcase.”

And as the money passed from a lackey to Soo-Jin and then to Hazara, time stood completely still. Jae-ha drew in his breath loudly, sharply, and flexed all the muscles in his body. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing stopped to steady his aim.

He didn’t have the time to pull the trigger.

The crack of a gunshot whizzed through the air, ricocheting off the roof where Jae-ha knew Ryou’s hunched figure to be, and seconds later, the coms flooded with cursing.

“_Fuck_,” Ryou exclaimed. “I’m compromised. Hazara’s men?”

“One of the agents,” Tatsu hissed into the mic. He was the closest one of them to the location of the deal. “What are your orders, boss?”

Jae-ha zoomed out with his scope to take in the scene unfolding below, every agent and officers on the ground suddenly emerging from the shadows. The warehouse district had turned into grounds for a shoot-out, police exchanging shots with Hazara and Soo-Jin’s men. Zooming back in, Jae-ha could see the two crooks begin their escape.

“Abort mission,” came Gi-Gan’s response. “Drag your sorry asses to the rendezvous point.”

He flattened his body against the roof, tracking Hazara and Soo-Jin’s movement with a steady aim. If he didn’t take them down now, they’d just walk free.

“I can still make the shots,” he said.

A petite red-haired girl was trailing behind the two crooks now but what was one small agent to accomplish? This was no place for her. No, Jae-ha had to shoot, before it was too late.

“Kaizoku One, _retreat_. Now.”

Jae-ha aimed. He stilled. His breath ceased, suddenly extinguished in his lungs. He felt the wind, lined the shot, traced the trajectory of the bullet. He triumphed too early, fired too late.

A bullet cracked against the side of the roof, the impact so sudden and jarring that Jae-ha snapped back to avoid being hit. It had come from the east. Easing out on the zoom, Jae-ha searched for the source, for the poor bastard that had dared take aim at him. He searched and when he found the agent, the whole world froze over.

Of all the places Jae-ha had hoped to find him, he’d never wanted to see Kija at the end of his sniper rifle. As the reticle dragged over his head, Kija stood still, gun raised, aimed in direction of Jae-ha silhouette. He seemed uncertain. To draw again or not. Jae-ha stared and Kija stared back, though it must have been impossible for the latter to know it was his ex-cellmate, not from this distance and certainly not against the backdrop of the night sky. Did his hand hover in some hope, then, that it was indeed Jae-ha?

Of course, Kija must have known Jae-ha would be here tonight. They’d crossed paths earlier, after all. Under rather intriguing circumstances, no less. That Jae-ha was being followed was no news, his pursuers had followed him through Xing and half of Kouka. To see Kija had been a surprise, however, one Jae-ha wished hadn’t left him nearly as bitter.

Jae-ha moved to stand then, running a trembling hand through his ponytail. Whatever Kija had seen, it seemed to confirm his suspicions because he bolted in the direction for Jae-ha’s building.

What did he want from him?

He’d not come for Jae-ha once in the six months that had passed and suddenly, he was everywhere and Jae-ha only wished he’d be as far away as Kouka permitted. But it seemed the world was a small place and Jae-ha was running out of space.

Quickly, he gathered up his sniper in the gun case and slung the bag casually across one shoulder. He hurried towards the stairs before he realised that the agents would have him cornered in no time if he did. Doubling back to the roof, Jae-ha located an emergency staircase, an old and rusty-looking thing but it would have to do. At this point, anything would do. He wasn’t going back to Kija, if going back meant false hopes and another stint in prison. It took more than a minute to fully reach the ground from how high up he’d been and down at street-level, it felt uncomfortable. The sense of security he’d felt tucked in the shadows of the roof was gone. He felt exposed, out in the open for anyone to see, any agent to spot.

The conspicuous-looking sniper case on his back didn’t make it much better — he stashed it underneath an industrial bin. He’d have to go back to retrieve it tomorrow but for now, he simply looked around and started walking.

His com cracked to life. “Kaizoku One, what’s your status?”

“Five minutes away,” he said, voice suddenly too loud now that the lash of wind wasn’t there to muffle it. “Has everyone else made the rendezvous?”

“Everyone but you,” Maya said.

Jae-ha peered ahead in the distance. A shadow darted between two crates far ahead. The rendezvous point suddenly seemed too far away, a minefield separating him and the rest of the crew. Agents and police. Hazara’s cut-throats, Soo-Jin’s lifers. And Jae-ha, amidst it all.

He sighed. Why should it be easy when it could be difficult, always so damn difficult? “Just go then,” he told them. “I’ll make my own way back.”

“Kaizoku One,” Gi-Gan began.

“Don’t use the coms. Save me some booze.”

With an inconspicuous movement as if to brush a strand of hair, he removed his earpiece and crushed it in his hand, dumping it in an open sewer as he rounded a corner. Jae-ha wasn’t planning on being caught — not tonight, not ever — but it paid to be careful. The lesson which had taught him the most in his line of work was to assume that you were being followed until you were certain you’d lost even your own shadow. He applied this principle now. He could head to the safe house right away but then he’d be serving that information right up, on a silver platter.

And when he rounded the next corner, a broken mirror by a dumpster reflecting the silhouette of a shadowy figure far behind him, there was no denying it any longer. He was being followed.

The pursuer looked much too tall to be Kija but then again, Jae-ha didn’t care if the devil himself was after him. All were devils in his line of work anyway.

His heartbeat trumped louder than a war-drum at this point. He picked up speed and heard the featherlight footsteps he hadn’t been about to make out before become louder, heavier. But Jae-ha didn’t run, not yet.

Today really wasn’t his day, was it?

Between the towers of stacked-up crates and metal containers, the spaces were small and pitch-black. All he had to do was walk fast and take sharp corners until he could find some dark cranny to slip into and wait for the pursuer to pass.

An opportunity made itself known when Jae-ha spotted a nook between two containers which were closely knitted together. His pursuer still hadn’t rounded the corner so Jae-ha rushed into the darkness, fighting the discomfort of the claustrophobic space. Jae-ha was by no means of a small build; his shoulders had always been too broad and now they clipped against the metal on both sides of him. He turned sideways, if only to speed up his trek until he’d fled the tiny space around him. The gap was only getting narrower and narrower, the walls of the containers now pressed flush against his back and chest.

As Jae-ha edged towards the end of the tunnel, he saw a shadow dart a mere foot in front of him. Jae-ha stilled, his breath fleeing his lungs.

Perhaps they’d not seen him, he hoped. Submerged in the shadows of the containers, he’d surely not been seen. _Surely_.

But then whoever had passed by doubled back, step by step, and Jae-ha thought himself doomed.

Through the curtain of shadows, a sweetly familiar voice asked, simple: “Jae-ha?”

The criminal jerked back, as though stung, and began doubling backwards the way he’d come. To hell with all of this. He’d rather run back to whichever agent had shadowed him before than return to the mercy of that voice. Kija’s face was submerged in the depths of the night’s shadows but it was clearly him. He knew it was no figment of his imagination, the lines of the boy’s face too sharp to be a memory. He knew he should flee and so he tried, one step back as Kija pressed himself against the space between the containers.

But when mortification struck, it struck hard and fast. Jae-ha was going nowhere, he was stuck between two large containers. There was no way back, he realised suddenly and solemnly. The walls of the metal containers pressed tightly against his sides, their clutches strong — a cage that he could not escape. Fleeing wouldn’t have wounded his pride nearly as much as just standing there, still as stone.

“Well, you’ve found me,” Jae-ha said as he tried to summon some fragment of dignity. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, _detective_, but it’s really not.”

From across the space of their breath, Kija had the audacity to look straight at him with those eyes like aquamarine gems. Ironic still that they were so very blue even through the curtain of shadows.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Kija asked, “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

In response, Jae-ha groaned. “How observant.”

“Let me help you out,” the detective said then, hand held out for Jae-ha to accept.

He didn’t. “Staying here ain’t so bad.”

Kija gave him one of those _looks_ — and Jae-ha hated that he instantly knew what it meant, hated that even now, even six months later, he knew that Kija could still call him out on his lies without saying a single word.

With some reluctance, Jae-ha let himself be dragged out of the claustrophobic space between the containers. But he was no fool, he’d already known why the detective was in Saika, his worst suspicions coming to life when Kija had been the one to chase him down. If Kija was here to apprehend him, Jae-ha wouldn’t let him, not even him. 

“You know, when you said you’d find me, I was hoping for a much more heart-warming reunion,” Jae-ha said, as he waited for the moment to pounce on him with the blade hidden in his sleeves.

Kija’s grip on his wrist was like iron chains. When he said nothing, Jae-ha hummed.

“But then again, silly me, right?” To think he’d harboured those hopes, to think that a part of him still did. “It’s your job to hunt down criminals like me, isn’t it, detective? That’s why you’re here, to send me back behind bars.”

“No!” Kija exclaimed, suddenly sounding winded. “That’s not it at all.”

“Then prove it and let me leave,” Jae-ha said. “Tell me how to get out of here without running into any of your agents.”

“I won’t.”

He’d expected those words, feared them too. They were enough to tell him what he needed to know — if Kija wasn’t with him, then he might as well be against him.

Jae-ha threw all his strength into his foot as he cast his pivoting leg in an upward sweep. But somehow, his famed kick had only managed to send Kija staggering a few steps back rather than hurtling towards the ground. When the detective’s defenses crumbled, Jae-ha saw his opportunity.

Now armed with his dagger, he took the blade to the detective’s throat. “How about we try this again?”

“Your blade won’t make me change my mind. I won’t let you leave.”

“Damn you, why must you always be so stubborn?” Jae-ha hissed. “If you’re not here to arrest me, then tell me which way isn’t guarded. You owe me that much.”

“I want to talk first,” the boy said from under his blade.

“Too bad, because I don’t.”

Jae-ha watched in feigned disinterest as Kija’s gaze searched his own. He knew what the boy would find if he looked past the veil of apathy: he’d find anger and betrayal. If he looked deeper still, he’d find the hope that refused to wane even if Jae-ha tried to desperately stifle the flames, he’d find the wishes from the past and the empty desires of the present, hopes for a future that would never happen now. Jae-ha refused to let Kija see these weaknesses.

He tightened his grip on the blade, even as the action hurt him more than it did Kija. “Which way?”

“West,” the detective choked. “We’re parked up west so it’s only the vans right now.”

“No agents guarding the vans?”

Kija studied him, incredulous. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”

“How should I know?” Jae-ha responded, unable to keep the venom from his words. “You’ve done it before.”

It was a low blow, by far the cheapest shot Jae-ha had ever thrown, but it seemed to have the effect he’d desired. The expression on Kija’s face went from shocked to wounded and his body went so slack that Jae-ha barely felt any resistance as he lowered the blade.

Jae-ha began walking. He needed to extract himself from the situation and this place as fast as he could. He said nothing, even as his heart bled for him to speak, to ask, to beg for answers he’d never get.

When he heard Kija’s steps follow him, he hated the part of himself that felt relieved. Why wouldn’t he run away from him? Jae-ha had just held a knife to his throat. Why wasn’t he scared of him? Jae-ha was a killer and if that boy hadn’t known so before, he must have seen the ghost of murder behind Jae-ha’s eyes now. And despite it all, he still followed. Jae-ha shouldn’t have been surprised. The same boy had stood by the far wall of their cell as Jae-ha had confronted him about the trafficking scheme before. That same boy had stood against Hiyou, and Kum-Ji, and saints know how many more men just like them. Jae-ha wasn’t sure if he himself hadn’t turned into one of those men just now.

“Don’t follow me,” he warned without looking back.

“We need to talk,” came the answer.

“_We_ need to be as far away from one another as geography allows it,” Jae-ha replied. All of a sudden, the moon didn’t seem as far enough as he needed to be from Kija before he did something stupid like threaten him again or forgive him. Absurd choices, both of them.

“First, we talk. After that you can go if you still want to,” Kija said stubbornly. Hell, how his stubbornness hadn’t grated Jae-ha’s nerves in prison was a mystery. To think he’d used to like it. To think a part of him, still, liked it — _treason_!

“There’s nothing the two of us can talk about.”

“Please,” Kija said behind him, “I’ve only just found you.”

Jae-ha’s anger reached the point of no return. He’d tip-toed around it, he’d walked on eggshells this whole time. What he wouldn’t have given four months ago to hear these words, what more he would have given two months ago. But now, this very moment, hearing them simply hurt.

He turned on one boot’s rigid heel. His sudden maneuver gave halting ground to Kija who’d startled into stillness. 

“You,” he said as he rounded up on him, index finger pointed straight at Kija’s face. “_You_ don’t get to say that. How can you say you’ve found me when it’s clear you’ve not even looked? Tell me, did you ever have any intention of finding me even back when you made that promise? Or was I just a fool for believing you this whole time?”

“I _have_ been looking, Jae-ha. There hasn’t been a day these past six months when I haven’t known where you were,” Kija said. “Believe me, I’ve been trying to get in touch.”

“Oh please,” Jae-ha said, shaking his head. “You’ve never been a good liar, but now you mock me too. How little you must think of me.”

“It’s the truth. I’ve always known where you were—”

“What does that mean?”

Cautiously, Kija pointed to the wrist-watch still strapped to Jae-ha’s wrist. “Bureau-issue. They have trackers on them.”

The words cut like whiplash. Jae-ha wanted to laugh, to marvel at his own stupidity. He wanted to curse the state of inebriation he’d been in when he’d first decided to put on that stupid watch. He wanted to curse every day when he’d thought of tossing it aside and hadn’t. Instead, Jae-ha did the only thing he knew how to.

All emotions fled to his arm and fed his muscles violence like kerosene to flame. His fist cracked against Kija’s cheekbone, unforgiving. The cross didn’t take him by surprise; it wasn’t a blow meant to hurt him but Kija would have taken it even if it had been. He took the impact calmly, as if he’d expected it all along. Perhaps he had. When he turned his head forward again, his eyes were devoid of accusations and clear, crystal-clear like the water on the Awa ports that Jae-ha suddenly missed so much.

“This whole time, while I thought you’d given up on me, you knew exactly where I was?” Jae-ha said quietly, though no less firm than his right cross.

But as soon as the words had left his lips, he realised he didn’t need a confirmation, that he’d not be able to take any more truths. Give him lies, feed him weak excuses, anything but these truths.

“You know what, don’t tell me. You can have this back.” He unclipped the strap of his watch and thrust it back at Kija, who stared at it for a long moment before he moved to take it. “We talked so I’m going now. Please don’t follow me this time.”

But some things were easier said than done and mere seconds after Jae-ha’d started walking, he spotted an agent’s shadow on the far end of the street.

“This way,” Kija said solemnly and Jae-ha felt a hand on his shoulder steer him in the direction of another cranny between several stacks of crates.

They navigated the warehouse district’s maze-like layout in silence. There was nothing to say, not when any attempts at conversation had ended in disaster. For his part, Kija remained ever so stubbornly silent, though Jae-ha suspected he wished to say more and was only holding out on his behalf. The tangle of thoughts in Jae-ha’s mind was more a beehive than a place of quiet contemplation, each word feeding emotions that took him in waves, but he refused to fall prey to them.

A part of him had hoped that Kija had looked for him, a part of him was treacherously glad that he had. But this train of thought was nothing compared to the part of him that was left to wonder why he’d not sought him out sooner. Too many questions, too many emotions, wanted to flood out of him. He was caught again between wanting to ask after them or fleeing the truths altogether, but decided at last to favour silence.

When they reached the western-most edge of Saika’s warehouse district, a fence stretched tall and wide, the view of the street on the other side causing a sudden flood of relief. Kija had shown no inclination that he’d stop trailing after Jae-ha, so the older boy sighed.

“How good are you at scaling fences?” Jae-ha asked, breaking his own vow to stay silent.

“Isn’t this electrified?” Kija asked, pointing to an old rusty sign. “Says so right there.”

“Oh, that? Seems like a joke to me.” 

Jae-ha, who had already moved closer to the fence, reached out to place his hand on the fence.

“Don’t!” Kija yelped, dashing forward but Jae-ha’s hand was already on the fence.

For a long second, nothing happened. Kija stared at Jae-ha as though he was expecting him to catch on fire. Another second passed, and another, and another.

Kija was now the shade of beetroot and Jae-ha worried that the snowflakes around them would melt in such close proximity to the detective’s face. “Now that _that’s_ out of the way, how good are you at scaling non-electrified fences?”

“Decent,” Kija grumbled.

Jae-ha turned around to give him a grave look. “You’ve never scaled a fence in our life, have you?”

“Why would I?” Kija asked, beginning to climb and followed closely by Jae-ha himself. “It’s not like I’ve had reason to.”

That was precisely it, wasn’t it? Maybe Kija hadn’t had a pampered life but he and Jae-ha were most definitely not cut from the same cloth. What did Kija know about having to survive off the streets, to steal food so he could eat? When Kija ran, he ran like someone who was used to giving chase; what did he know about being the one who had to run for his life?

Wanting Kija had been easy in prison. Before all of this, before these six long months, it had come as easy as breathing. If he’d stayed then, if Jae-ha had gone with him then, would things be different now? Or was this inevitable; would Jae-ha have realised their differences anyway? Would they have mattered if things hadn’t gone so wrong?

As they climbed atop the fence, Kija clearly unused to the feeling of the wire cutting into his fingers, Jae-ha sat with one leg slung on each side of the fence and gripped Kija’s boot to help him begin his descent of the fence.

“Climbing fences seems much easier when you’re not the one doing it,” the detective said with some effort.

Jae-ha raised his eyebrow at him, though he knew Kija could not see it. “Right, less talking. You need to focus, it’s quite slippery because of the frost—”

And just as he said that, Kija’s foot slipped and he lost his purchase, falling down, all the way down to the snow-covered ground. There was no heavy _thump_, no thud, just a small gasp of surprise as Kija landed in a pile of fresh snow that had been blown in by the storm. Jae-ha watched the events unfold from atop the fence, resisting the urge to laugh, even though it felt so natural at this very moment.

With an amused sigh, he flung himself away from the fence and landed — rather gracefully in comparison to Kija — on the ground next to the agent. Buried underneath, hair as white as snow and skin paler than the moon, Kija could have just as easily looked like any other snowflake. The thought was odd and perplexing, even to Jae-ha as his mind formed it, but the resemblance was difficult to shake off now that he’d seen it. Once, he’d have probably teased him for it. 

“Nearly lost you there in all that snow,” he said instead and pulled the detective by the hand. He tried not to think what it felt like, touching Kija again after all this time. Somehow, he seemed to have grown even more handsome in the months that Jae-ha hadn’t seen him, his boyish face leaner, those cheekbones now sharp like Jae-ha’s blades, lips so red and plump against the cold.

The younger man looked up at him in unmasked surprise, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes. “For a second, I thought you might just leave me there.”

Odd, it hadn’t even seemed to cross his mind. “I couldn’t have even if I'd wanted to.”

There was a long moment during which neither made an attempt to respond. The words had fled his lips before he’d had the chance to stop them, though the encompassing silence assured him that perhaps his momentary lapse of composure had gone unnoticed, only for the wind to carry and remember.

“You confuse me,” Kija said then.

“Pardon?”

“Ten minutes ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. Now, you’re implying the opposite. You confuse me,” the younger man accused again. “Do you really not understand? My feelings for you haven’t changed these six months. I’m here today because Saints know, everyone’s tried to stop me before and I’m tired of letting them stand in my way. All I want is to talk and if you can’t give me that much, then maybe I’ve been the fool all along, not you.”

Jae-ha did not dare look him in the eye. He felt foolish and small, ridiculous. For a man who claimed to always know everything, he realised he might have known nothing after all. That he had been denying himself hope was true. That he had been denying Kija the chance to explain himself was suddenly unforgivable and childish.

“Half an hour,” he said at last. “I’ll give you half an hour to _talk_, seeing as you’re so intent on following me to Mordor and back.”

Kija seemed to frown. “Where’s that?”

“It’s a reference. _Lord of the Rings_?”

“Oh, well, I’ve not seen it yet.”

The sheer blasphemy.

“Nevermind that then.” Jae-ha sighed, shaking his head. “We can’t go to my safehouse, the crew’s there.”

“We’ll need to find something else then,” Kija agreed. “I’m under investigation so there’s an agent stationed outside my flat. We can’t go there either.”

Jae-ha didn’t want to ask, he knew he shouldn’t give in to it, but he did anyway. “Why are they investigating you?”

“Because I’ve been trying to contact a certain someone for the past six months,” Kija said simply and although Jae-ha felt a tiny stab to his gut, Kija’s words and tone weren’t accusatory.

Any protests that Jae-ha might have had died on his lips.

“There’s another safehouse we have here in Saika,” he made himself say instead. “It’s more of a storage facility but it’ll have to make do. It’s north of here, though not by much.”

The two former cellmates — and wasn’t it odd to consider they had met in _prison_, of all places? — made their way through the deserted streets of Saika as snowflakes continued their descent from the black skies. Jae-ha tried to ignore the hurried drum of his heart, the tingle of his nerves, on edge with apprehension.__

_ __ _

_ __ _

When they turned over on Furuta Str., Jae-ha dropped his voice so Kija had to look up and lean in to hear.

“And what do we do about your guy?” he asked, his thoughts on the silhouette that had been following them for the past block.

Kija’s brows knitted together. “I thought he was one of your pursuers.”

“My, aren’t we quite the celebrities,” Jae-ha said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

Then, inexplicably, Kija laughed. The older boy turned to stare at him, eyes wide. He could count the times Kija had laughed in prison on both his hands, and this was already a very different kind of laugh. It sounded completely out of place given the situation, given all that had happened. He hadn’t expected to love the sound of it so much.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, incredulous.

Kija turned to look him in the eye then, head tilted in amusement and a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He clearly has no idea he’s dealing with two people who’ve staged a riot and a prison break.”

Oh, how Jae-ha had missed this. He’d missed it so much. “Let’s show him how it’s done, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have no idea how much I love sniper rifles. The beginning of this chapter was so much fun to write precisely because of my love for them, though I'm afraid Jae-ha did not share my passion, lol. Originally, I was going for a chase scene between Jae-ha and Kija but because we had that in the last chapter, I thought it'd be too repetitive, considering the terrain was similar too. So, instead, I chose to go for something more similar to the way that Jae-ha and Kija meet in the manga (with Jae-ha stuck because of his thicc rear, lmaoo)
> 
> I also included a wee reference to 'Renegades' by adding the whole snowflake scene. I included it out of pure patronage to the story by SariahHime which inspired this fic, though this story has since taken on a very different path, I guess. (Oh, and if anyone here ships Arthur and Merlin from the BBC show, then yes, "dollopheads" was a wee nod to that, lol)
> 
> Next Monday, we'll be following Kija as our boys hopefully work things out or who knows, maybe I've got other plans for them? ;)


	17. All Is Fair in Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dear Reader! Here's a sweet little chapter to make up for all the pain and suffering that I have been responsible for inducing in the past few chapters! Hope you like it! :)

—Kija—

They were running. Down a block, past the next, they were just two shadows darting across the streets. Kija needn’t ask where they were going; there was no destination, no direction but one — forward until they were safe.

Behind them, heavy footsteps followed. Somewhere between the last block and this one, at least one more man had joined the pursuit, and Kija felt they were quickly getting outnumbered. But Jae-ha ran fast and strong like the wind, not even stopping for breath or a stolen look back, so Kija trusted and followed. In front of them, a construction site lay like a shadow between streetlights, a spot of pit-like darkness. Jae-ha needn’t say anything; Kija already knew their chances of eluding the pursuers were better inside it. Through the blur in his vision, Kija saw the thin shell of metal sheeting around the construction coming closer, two-story walls suddenly towering.

Jae-ha changed track, charging for a large gate amid the wall. It stood tall, too high to scale and chained shut. Kija saw a glimpse of panic in Jae-ha’s expression as he dropped to one knee. He tried to steady his fingers to pick the lock; he was failing.

Through the loud thump of his heart, Kija thought he heard noises. Something from the building behind them, but when he strained to listen, the sounds came broken and faint. They could have been wind through the plastic sheeting or a loose pipe, but no. In the silence, he heard it again. Footsteps. Three sets: one heavy, one clipped, and the other dragging at the heel. 

Three men now. Kija could see them approaching, not the men but their shadows as the streetlights betrayed them. Jae-ha was still working on the lock but there wasn’t enough time.

“Move over!” Kija said and as soon as Jae-ha stepped back, he aimed his gun at the lock, and fired.

The chain clattered to the ground; Jae-ha grinned. “A man of brute force.”

There was no time to waste on a retort. Kija simply hauled the other man to his feet and the two flung themselves at the gate, shoulders first, and then they were dashing forward.

Inside the metal shell, there was a large stretch of dirt and snow. Kija felt a tug at his sleeve and clocked Jae-ha, on his right, pointing towards the concrete building. He nodded. The yard was dark, shadows on shadows, and the two men ran into the depths of their embrace. Jae-ha was faster, he ran headstrong like the winter gale, and Kija followed between bits of metal and plywood, and bags of concrete. Coming closer now, the building towered, unfinished or perhaps abandoned. Kija couldn’t see his own two feet so he watched the steel and concrete skeleton instead, each footfall jarring his vision. 

They rounded into the empty construction now, shapes of concrete poured in place, though without any windows or dividers. Only plastic sheeting obscured their view of the yard. 

“Did you see a way out around the back?” Kija asked as the two crouched down behind a pillar and waited for shadows to pass through the yard.

Jae-ha braced himself against the concrete. “There was a gap in the south wall.”

“Then lead the way.”

“Not yet,” was the reply and Kija could feel Jae-ha’s fingers at his hip, could feel them rest on his gun holster. “We need to buy ourselves some time.”

A shadow darted across the yard. Jae-ha aimed, arm balanced on Kija’s shoulder, and the boy heard him draw a sharp breath. There was a flash. There was a crack of thunder and the sound of gunshot rang off the concrete slabs.

What followed was silence, then a grunt and a shout.

“That sounded like a hit, didn’t it?” Jae-ha said but his voice was cut off as the men in the yard opened fire.

Bullets bounced off the other side of the pillars as Kija shouted back, “Now move!”

The two waited for the men to empty their clips before they were dashing for the southern wall around the back of the building. It was like going in blind, Kija could barely see, but a minute later, Jae-ha beckoned him forward and there it was. Their escape, through a place in the shell where two broad panels of metal overlapped but did not quite connect. Kija widened the gap between the sheets to let both of them through, the panels snapping shut again behind them.

A harsh wind blew in now from the west, picking up speed by the minute, howling, wailing. Jae-ha ran and Kija followed, only looking back once or twice to see if the pursuers had found the gap in the sheeting. The blizzard came crashing in full then, hurtling flakes of snow now, and making it difficult to see.

Though Kija hadn’t lived long in Saika, perhaps a month at most, you didn’t have to know much to understand when you’ve lost your way. They weren’t heading north to Jae-ha’s safehouse, that much was evident, as they entered into one of southern Saika’s quaint suburban neighbourhoods. At present, they navigated through a nicer part of town than any of the central streets Kija had gone to previously. Here, charming cottages surrounded a forest and the road narrowed the further they went. 

It was another five minutes of walking, the distance between one cottage and the next only growing wider, when Kija had the sense to finally ask, “Are we walking in a random direction or do you know where we’re going?”

It had gotten so cold so suddenly, the temperatures dropping in a matter of minutes. This far into the country’s north, the winds struck like whips and the gales were known for their deadly reign on the land come wintertime. It had become difficult to see past the storm, snow blowing in fast now, in shards and bits like broken glass.

Jae-ha trailed only a few feet in front of him, that deep-purple coat of his billowing in the gale. He didn’t look back, but the lash of wind carried his voice back to Kija: “We’re looking for a place to lay low. Thought that much was obvious, no?”

“In someone else’s house?” Kija hissed. “No, we’re not breaking and entering a stranger’s home!”

“It’ll be like we were never there,” Jae-ha argued. “Come on, I’ll leave ten crowns in their jackets if I get mud on the carpet.”

Suddenly horrified at the suggestion, Kija halted in his tracks. “I said ‘no’. It’s illegal.”

“Like helping me break out of prison _wasn’t_? You seriously need to set your priorities,” Jae-ha said, finally turning around to look back. When he noticed Kija had stopped walking, he made his way to him through snow-heaps which now reached his calves. “Do you want to wait for the men to find us again? Do you want to freeze to death?”

Kija shook his head stubbornly. “But the safehouse—”

“Is an hour away by foot,” the other man interrupted. “Look, the storm is picking up and if we don’t find somewhere to crash _now_, we’ll turn into human popsicles.”

“Just to warm up,” Kija relented finally, still only in his gear — a shirt and a bulletproof vest that may have offered some protection from bullets but not from cold.

Jae-ha seemed to watch him shiver before he pulled down his coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. “We take turns. And don’t fight me on this too,” he warned, eyes flashing. “We don’t have the time to argue right now.”

They were much too cold to go on for long. Jae-ha trudged into the snow with purpose that completely eluded Kija. The detective didn’t know what they were looking for, not through this blizzard, but he trusted Jae-ha that they weren’t going to freeze to their death in the middle of nowhere. Kija was beyond shivering at this point, he’d even started feeling warm, which he vaguely knew was worse, much worse.

It was on their second switch of the coat when Jae-ha pointed at a one-story brick cottage. “This one. The driveway hasn’t been shoveled and there aren't any tracks in the snow.” 

Kija frowned. “The storm’s been blowing for an hour. It could have easily covered any tracks from the early evening.”

Jae-ha nodded at the houses farther up the street. “See the icicles hanging off their roofs? Means the heat’s running.” He turned back in the direction of the lone cottage at the edge of the forest. “If this place doesn’t have any, then the heat’s been turned down to keep the utilities low while the owners aren’t here. Probably a vacation place.”

“Your detective skills are putting mine to shame,” Kija mumbled.

The other man offered him a smile. “Don’t take it to heart, angel. We’re in different lines of work, after all.”

Huddling close to one another, the two men walked around to the back of the cottage, careful to take the curve at an angle from the woods. A small porch greeted them, covered so deep in snow that it would have been difficult to tell it apart from the rest of the backyard. An old aluminum screen sheathed the back door on the outside and Kija had to force it open, frozen as it was. He held it for Jae-ha as he worked on the lock on the inner door, frost-bitten fingers shaking with effort. There was some cursing and many exasperated breaths and sighs. Kija bounced on his feet, trying to ward off the numbness spreading through his body, as though convinced that if he were to stand still, his bones would calcify and turn to stone.

A snap like cracking glass sounded in the distance and Kija stiffened, on his guard in an instant. Only a few moments later did he realise that there must be a lake nearby, the sound of wind cracking against its frozen surface near-ghostly, yet unmistakable. The lock finally clicked open, and Jae-ha forced the door in, pushing Kija inside first.

Once Jae-ha had pulled the door closed, though not without Kija’s help against the blowing gale, the two found themselves standing in a small mudroom. On the wall to the right, raincoats hung from wooden hooks. On the left, yellow and red pairs of rubber boots sat lined up on a mat. Jae-ha had been right — this fit the bill of a vacation home rather perfectly. Kija allowed himself to relax, though he suddenly felt tired, his clothes soaked through and weighing him down.

“_Saints_! We actually made it,” Jae-ha said with a whistle, brushing past Kija on his way to the rest of the house. “Never a dull moment when I’m with you, is there. First, it was a mafia lord and a prison break. Now, it’s a winter storm and a nice cottage. What’s next, World War III and a spaceship?”

“The feeling goes both ways, believe me,” Kija said tiredly as he padded close behind, following through a small wooden kitchen to a living room.

After disappearing into one of the rooms, Jae-ha had apparently found a fusebox because he managed to turn on the light in the small pantry. He left the door ajar, only a faint stream of low glow to serve as their guide in the dimly lit space. In the middle of the living room stood two sofas covered in white sheets. Jae-ha tugged both off with a single pull, sending dust into the air. Kija watched as it cascaded down like a hurl of snowflakes.

“It sure is nice being inside,” Jae-ha said, rubbing his arms for warmth as his breath came out in foggy puffs, “but it’s still freezing in here. You turn up the heat, I’ll try to find if they keep any clothes here.”

Kija located the thermostat which sat tucked at the very back of the living room, turned the dial, and heard the furnace tick on a few seconds later. 

“Give it twenty minutes and it should warm up,” he called out to Jae-ha, whom he could hear walking back now. 

“Sounds good. Meanwhile, this is all I could find,” Jae-ha said, his voice muffled through the wall and then clear as he stepped into the living room, carrying a knitted sweater, a shirt and a cardigan, and two pairs of summer shorts. “It’s better than what we have.”

Kija eyed the cardigan warily. “That’s highly debatable.”

“I promise not to judge your fashion sense for tonight,” said Jae-ha with a small smile as he handed him the sweater and shorts, even though both were too big for him.

“How very understanding of you,” Kija bid back. “What would I possibly do if you didn’t like my choice of attire, I wonder?”

“Flee the scene?” Jae-ha suggested and earned himself a _look_.

When Kija went in search of a bathroom to change, he tried not to let himself feel intimidated by the suggestive raise of the other man’s brow, almost as if to tease him. If Jae-ha wanted a show, he wasn’t getting one. Not when Kija was soaked through and freezing to the core.

The relief he felt as he stripped out of the layers of frozen clothing was overwhelming, though the cold air in the cottage was quick to assault his skin. Even after having sat unused for who knows how many months, the sweater and shorts felt freshly cleaned and if their edges were too sharp and crisp, it didn’t matter. Kija could still make out the faint scent of the wooden wardrobe where they’d sat, the smell suddenly soothing. When he dared a peek at the mirror, he found, with much disdain but little surprise, that he looked dreadful. Skin flushed a vivid red from the cold, strands of hair sticking out, near-frozen. The fit of the sweater reminded Kija of all the times his granny had made him put on knitwear when he’d been a kid, and the shorts were the kind that someone in their fifties would wear to a fishing get-together with the dads, complimentary with rubber boots of course. If the sweater was a size too big, it couldn’t hold a candle to how large the shorts were. They slouched down and he was certain that if he didn’t pull them up at least once every step, they’d fall down to his ankles. Damn that Jae-ha, he’d probably given him this pair on purpose. He’d put nothing indecent past that man.

Kija looked around. There seemed to be no dryer so he resorted to hanging the dripping clothes on the bar of the shower curtain. His fingers stung at the touch and when he ran them through the water from the sink, the stream _burned_. Kija gasped, then hissed. 

“Remind me to slip a fifty-crown note in these poor people’s coats on the way out,” Kija said as he walked back to the living room. “We’re going to be leaving quite a mess once all the snow has melted from our clothes.”

“Your constant altruism is _almost_ making me question my ways, you know,” came the reply, though muffled.

When Kija rounded the corner to the kitchen, he realised why: Jae-ha was going through the cupboards in search of food, an opened can of beer already on the table.

“Beer?” the detective asked, though he didn’t look dignified enough to be questioning anybody right now, not when he looked like a mix between a fisherman and a scruffy teenager. “Now? Really?”

“What? It was only a month past its expiration date.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jae-ha paused his search to peer back at him. If he had any comments on the outfit, he kept them to himself. Wise decision. “Do you want one then?”

Fighting an urge to agree, Kija shook his head and sighed. “I’m just going to leave the money now in case you neglect to remind me.”

There was a clatter from inside the kitchenette. “I would have remembered.”

Perhaps, but it wasn’t his memory that Kija doubted.

Inside the mudroom again, Kija could hear the gales of wind lashing at the walls and windows, the panels vibrating at each and every lash as though a wild animal had barrelled into them. Even as a kid, Kija had hated storms. Rain, thunder, snow, they had all terrified him. But if before he had always been safe in his home, tucked underneath a heap of blankets, this time the storm had caught him outside and without a sanctuary. Or perhaps that was wrong. He _had_ had a sanctuary, not a place but a person. Jae-ha, always Jae-ha coming to his rescue.

On his way back, Kija felt himself reduced to nervous shivers and awkward steps. “Thank you,” he said then, suddenly serious, “for finding this place and making me see reason. I mean it.”

If the detective had expected some sort of sarcastic remark, he received none. Jae-ha looked back at him, his expression hovering between his usual playful easiness and something infinitely softer.

In an effort to make himself busy, Kija went on a tour around the cottage and found an old woolen blanket in one of the wardrobes. After giving it a good shake, he wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape and returned to the living room where he plopped on the couch. If only there was tea, his night would be truly complete.

There was a sudden shrill of a ring. Both men tensed up, Jae-ha mid-sip, until Kija assured him that it was his phone. After a dash back to the bathroom, he found it already silent. The screen read — oh, dear, _7 missed calls_. All of which from Hak, of course. Missing a call from Hak was somewhat akin to missing a call from one’s own mother. Missing several of them equaled imminent death, and Kija was simply glad that he was still sitting on single digits.

“Would you believe who finally decided to answer?” Hak said as soon as he picked up, on the very first ring. “First, you take off without a word. Now, I wait two hours for you to grace me with an explanation. Well?”

Kija tried not to cringe away from the phone. He made his way back to the comfort of the couch, sitting criss-cross. “It was him, the sniper.”

From the other side of the room, Jae-ha looked up and though his face was half-cast in darkness, Kija saw him grin. Then, to Kija’s surprise, horror, and ultimate downfall, he began changing out of his clothes right then and there. Oh, this was payback for earlier, Kija knew.

“Okay, good,” Hak said on the other side of the line, “because we lost the other sniper and it’s reassuring to hear that they weren’t with Hazara.”

Not trusting himself to utter a response and giving less than quarter of a damn about what Hak was saying, Kija settled on ogling in silence. There were far less dignified ways of dealing with Jae-ha’s teasing than this, Kija told himself. He was partially glad that the light was so dim, but saints, did he wish it was brighter yet, enough so that he could see properly.

Jae-ha was just taking off his trousers, the tangle of hard muscle around his legs strained from the cold. And that round—

“Are you still there?” Hak asked.

“Uh-huh,” Kija answered distractedly.

“You’re with him right now, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” came the same response again. “How’s the mission?”

There was a snicker from the opposite side of the room. Kija dared not look in full but with the corner of his eye, he could see Jae-ha was in the middle of peeling off his sodden shirt. Dear saints, show him mercy. Give him strength. Suddenly, being in the same house as Jae-ha seemed infinitely more dangerous than venturing outside in the snowstorm.

“We’re transporting Hazara and Soo-Jin currently, the local PD’s got their men,” Hak carried on, none the wiser of poor Kija’s situation. “Listen, I don’t even know why I’ve decided to cover for you but I will so don’t make me regret it. I’ve told the rest that you’re in pursuit of the sniper suspects but you need to be here at 0900 for the report, you hear? Or we’re both getting shipped off to Kai this time.”

“Roger that,” Kija said and a moment later, “You know, it's nice to have you on my side.”

Hak sighed and because the detective knew him well enough by now, he could just picture him running fingers through his hair in exasperation. “We're a team. We've been on the same side since the Academy. Maybe if you quit putting yourself in jeopardy, you'd finally realise that.”

Kija smiled. “How kind of you to say.”

“0900, Hakuryuu.” And with that final reminder, Hak disconnected.

Kija set the phone down on the small coffee table between the couches, looking up expectantly to see Jae-ha making his way to the other couch but the other man was simply leaning against one of the kitchen stools.

Neither of them said anything for a while and silence stretched. Kija didn’t know where to begin, and Jae-ha simply looked at him like he’d rather Kija didn’t say anything at all. The man that stood before him was and was not Jae-ha. Sure, he looked exactly as handsome as the first time he’d seen him — maybe even more so in the absence of prison-issue clothes and the presence of some proper hygiene. But he was also someone new, someone who — and Kija realised this with great bitterness — he didn’t really know at all. He’d never thought about it before but what was he like outside the prison bars? What was he like when he wasn’t hanging off the ledge of the tunnel on that beautiful night or when he wasn’t part of some fantasy of a brighter future?

At the very least, Kija owed him an explanation. He had no right to expect anything more and it was up to Jae-ha to decide whether he’d forgive him for disappearing for as long as he had.

“Do you hate me for this?” Kija asked suddenly. It was not the thought he’d expected, not the one he’d wanted to give voice to but one that had nonetheless haunted him for months.

“For this, as in getting stuck in a nice cottage during a snowstorm? Or as in waiting for you for half a year?”

“It would be helpful if you actually tried to be serious.”

Jae-ha looked at him as though it was physically painful to speak. “No, I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if you’d made me wait for years, but there are worse things than hate, Kija,” he said. “When you lose faith in someone, isn’t that worse?”

The words sank like a stone in Kija’s chest, but he didn’t retreat under their weight.

“You’d like to know why I didn’t want to talk?” Jae-ha asked. “You want me to ask you why you left and didn’t come back? Why you chose to hunt down other criminals so you wouldn’t have to face the one that cared for you? I didn’t ask you because I don’t want to hear them.”

“Hear what?” asked Kija.

“The excuses. The lies, the truths, none of it.” Kija drew breath to speak, but Jae-ha cut him off: “I’ve never cared for liars, I’ve told you that the very first day I met you. But I care even less for fools, so don’t make me feel like one any more than I already do.”

“Jae-ha,” Kija said, “I didn’t want to leave. I came today because I wanted to say I’m sorry. For disappearing, for not contacting you, all of it. I understand if you don’t forgive me, I don’t expect that you should—”

“And I believe you, I _do_. But it’s not about forgiving you or not,” he muttered quietly. “If it was about that, then all it took for me to forgive you was seeing you again. But it’s not. It’s not about that.”

“Then what?”

Jae-ha smiled bitterly. “This was never meant to happen. I’m a criminal,” he said. “A thief and a killer. I don’t get to live the way you do.”

Neither of them had made a move but the air in the room was feeling tighter nonetheless.

“So you’re saying it was a mistake?”

“I’m saying it was a dream,” Jae-ha said. “But it was too good to be true and this is reality.”

“And I still want to be with you.”

“No, you want to be with the man you met six months ago,” he said. “You want his arms to hold you, not mine. Mine are covered in blood. I don’t regret doing what I’ve done but let’s be honest, I’m not a man who’s worthy of you.”

“Quit putting words in my mouth that don’t belong to me. I’ll accept you as you are, blood on your hands or not,” Kija said. “My life isn’t a bed of roses either. What, you think I can find someone who knows nothing of what I do and understands nothing of why I do it?”

They had reached a point in the conversation where it had gotten heated. Kija could tell by the tremble in his hand, small shivers that he hid as he clenched the blanket. Could tell by the dangerous flicker in Jae-ha’s eyes, a match to fuse.

“I can’t leave this life,” Jae-ha said then, trying to even his voice. “I can’t change my ways, not while knowing that I’m giving up on people who still live under bastards like Kum-Ji.” 

“You don’t have to give up on fighting for your cause.”

“And I won’t,” the older boy said with conviction, “so you see, these excuses are all we have because it’s never been about what you and I want. Your agency’s got you like a puppet on its strings. Do you think they’d let you see a criminal? Live with me like you’d live with a free man?”

Kija did not relent under the other’s heated gaze. He was ready to lay his final hand on the table. “If what you want is a life where we can work side by side against people like Kum-Ji, there is a way.”

Jae-ha stilled. Kija stiffened, heartbeat flaring with anticipation.

“What way?” Jae-ha asked slowly. His words teased the line between pleasure and pain, fear that Jae-ha would decline and hope that he wouldn’t.

“There’s case law. Under the Act of 1999, 8th Amendment, article 14—”

“Kija,” Jae-ha said, “I don’t speak law. Give it to me straight.”

“If I were to request your assistance in our cases, you can be released from prison into the custody of the Bureau. Under my supervision as detective.” When Jae-ha made no effort to interject, Kija continued: “You can become a criminal consultant for the Bureau. Join the fieldwork or help us with profiling, it’s up to you. One year and you’ve got yourself a clean record.”

In silence and in hope, Kija watched as the information sank into Jae-ha, the process almost palpable. Over the past two months, he’d spent hours upon hours studying the Bureau’s handbooks, scouring their contents for anything to use, to grasp, like a drowning man to a straw. Now, he watched the expression on Jae-ha’s face, watched as a dozen emotions passed through. Surprise, real hope, and a dozen more, until what finally settled was a scowl.

“That sounds great but we’re missing the part where I have to be in prison to get released from it, you see.”

Kija’s determination wavered. “Well, luckily for us, you’re already supposed to be in prison so if we detain you—”

“_Detain_ me?”

“Just a matter of formality until we get the paperwork done. Anywhere between a week—”

“A week?”

“And a month—”

“A _month_?!” Jae-ha asked, shaking his head. “I’m sorry but this sounds like the perfect opportunity for your superiors to lock me up for good.”

“Not if I make a deal with them first,” Kija said. “I haven’t spoken to my direct superior about it before so I don’t know his conditions. Normally, when there’s a criminal consultant involved, they make them wear GPS-tracking anklets for the provisionary period.”

“Lovely, it’ll be like wearing chains all over again,” Jae-ha said, his eyes dark and stormy. “How long is this provisionary period?”

“Usually six months but they’d likely make an exception for you.”

“Shorten it?”

Kija shook his head. “Extend it.”

His hand fisted into the blanket, Kija waited for the other boy to speak, to say something, _anything_. Jae-ha tapped his feet on the wooden floor, still leaning against the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Of all the ways Kija had imagined this conversation to go, he’d never thought it’d be so full of hope and yet so devoid of it at the same time.

“And the crew?” Jae-ha asked finally but Kija knew that in the moment that it took to answer his question, hope would be gone.

“I’m afraid the offer doesn’t extend to them.”

The older boy fell silent. Winds howled outside, striking the sides of the cottage like hammer to an anvil. Kija’s heart beat in anticipation, and in hope, and in dread too. He was asking too much, he knew, but when you wanted something this bad, nothing seemed too much, no chase too far, no hope too impossible. If Kija was a fool after all, he was a fool because of his desire, not his fear.

Jae-ha frowned. “And if I can’t accept?” he asked and the words sank like stone.

Kija’s heart slammed against his ribs as if trying to break through. It redoubled its efforts, then faltered again. “If you decide against it,” he said then, “there’s nothing else I can offer you. I’m sorry, I want to give you the world but this is all I’m capable of.”

So this is what it had come to?

“I want to accept,” said Jae-ha, stealing a stride towards him. Moving closer, finally. “I don’t want to spend all my life on the run. I want to be free with you. I want to have a nice cottage with a mudroom and to come home every day to find you nestled in a blanket, I do.”

“But?” Kija asked, bracing.

“But,” Jae-ha rolled the word over his tongue, “I can’t imagine that a life like that could ever be mine.”

“It could be if we fought for it. Please give me hope,” Kija pleaded. “Say that you’re going to think about it. That’s all I ask.”

The silence that stretched between them was worse than any of the six months they’d spent apart. For what seemed like the thousandth time since then, Kija wished he’d never left. Then maybe they’d not have to mend the faith they’d lost.

“How long are you staying in Saika for?” the detective asked then, voice more even this time.

Jae-ha averted his gaze. “We’re set to leave two days from now, on Saturday.”

“Then meet me again at the Golden Lily on Friday night, at 9,” Kija said. “It’s a bar in the centre of town. I figure it’s better to discuss this after you’ve thought about it.”

“You want my answer by then?”

“I want your answer then,” Kija said, his breath stuck on thorns in his throat, “because I cannot bear hearing it right now.”

Jae-ha took a step forward, and then another, the metal buttons on the hideous cardigan glinting like gems caught in moonlight. In turn, Kija dared not move, convinced that if he were to do anything, Jae-ha would halt in his tracks. But the older boy didn’t. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, their eyes now level. Jae-ha brought a hand to Kija’s cheek, the touch feather-light and soft.

“Tomorrow,” he conceded. “Kija, I will consider it and if I can find it in me to accept, I will. But what you’re asking of me, it’s not easy.”

“It’s not,” Kija agreed, “but it’s worth fighting for.”

Jae-ha looked at him then, eyes deeper than the ocean. “Together?”

Kija felt Jae-ha’s eyes lay him bear, defenseless, and he blushed. The heat started in his face and sparked beneath his shirt. Everything about Jae-ha — the tension in his back, the race of his heart, the shiver of his fingers, and the tremor in his breath — told Kija that the feeling was mutual. Standing there, so unbearably close, he felt short of breath, let alone words.

Still, he found the strength to chase the sound away from his lips and out to the world: “We should have been together in this all along.”

Jae-ha brought his other hand to tangle into Kija’s hair. The breath caught in Kija’s chest, heat flushed his body. He’d had the beginnings of apologies and promises on his lips but Jae-ha caught them in his. It took a moment for Kija to return the kiss, deeply, desperately. He was starved for it, for this. They both were. He remembered the first time they’d kissed, with a dying Jae-ha in his arms. It had been gentle. This time, it was desperate. It was crashing against the waves of the ocean for him and swimming back up, breaking the surface for air. It was drawing breath for the first time after fearing to breathe. It was summer heat and winter solace, and a hundred other things which Kija hadn’t even hoped to imagine.

When they drew apart, Jae-ha’s smile floated in front of his face. They were so close, nose to nose, lash to lash, and all Kija could see was the colour of his eyes, storm blue and angry violet. Faint lines creased their corners, from laughter and from happiness that Kija wanted to be part of, always. He could see the light scatter of sun freckles against Jae-ha’s tanned skin and he wanted to kiss them for all the times the sun had embraced Jae-ha when Kija had not been there to do so.

Kija pulled him on top as he sank back onto the couch, Jae-ha’s knees now bracketing his legs. His mouth grazed Kija’s, only a nip and then the pressure was gone, replaced by the cold air of the room. Kija’s heart was pounding, the boy realised, but then it hurried its beat even more as Jae-ha’s lips grazed his jaw, and down the column of his throat, trailing down with soft kisses.

The boy shivered and groaned. Jae-ha must have felt the tremor because he smiled against his skin. Heat blossomed like early spring and then sparked as uncontrollable and dangerous as wildfire where Jae-ha’s hands found his skin.

“I wish we’d done this hours ago,” Kija whispered against the older boy, breath jagged.

Jae-ha, too, was breathless. “Now that you mention it, I regret wasting time arguing with you.”

“If only you’d not been this stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’d pulled himself back up again, so they were face to face, his thumb brushing Kija’s cheek. “Though there are ways to make up for lost time, you know,” Jae-ha said with a wink and a smile. The winner smile that Kija had spent an eternity in hope to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was more information that I'd planned to add for this chapter and in particular about Kija's past six months but I'm afraid it would have gotten disproportionately longer compared to other chapters so I've kept my secrets for later chapters (and yes, I did just change this fic from 21 to 23 chapters)! I had a lot of fun writing Jae-ha and Kija in this scenario, felt oddly domestic considering the circumstances. Also, this cottage low-key feels like the most "hygge" thing ever ;)
> 
> Next Monday, we'll have a look at what's been going through Jae-ha's mind in the wake of Kija's offer and we'll be getting an update on who these mystery pursuers might be! Stay tuned for Chapter 18 and have a lovely week, you beautiful people! :)


	18. No One Is a Thief Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! :) Just a heads-up that this chapter deals with more serious themes than previous ones so beware!
> 
> WARNING: References to/depictions of underage drug use

—Jae-ha—

Jae-ha, of course, hadn’t been born a thief. He’d been born with the same chances at a normal, honourable life just like any other man, but trouble had a way of finding him, time after time. Along the way, he’d raised himself a thief and fancied himself some comic-book hero in a villains’ world. At twenty-seven years of age, he liked to think himself free from the nightmares of his childhood, but, just like the memories of chains, they were etched too deep into his mind.

It wasn’t something he could run away from, not the way he’d fled the foster homes. It always caught up to him eventually — the good and the bad, the fear and the hope, all of it.

The person he’d been before, he could hardly remember. It was like trying to paint a portrait of himself by memory, the image vague, blurry, contorted. He’d left that person behind, shed his weaknesses the way a snake would shed its skin, but the scenes of a past he’d wanted to leave buried came rushing forth regardless. Kija had unconsciously pulled the bandage off a wound that had taken over a decade to start healing. One thought was all it took — one, and then another, and another, until Jae-ha was descending down the same old spiral that was memory lane. Only this time, he couldn’t let it get to him. He was better than this, better than he’d ever been before.

If one was not born a thief, then how did crime find and nurture them into joining its ranks? Jae-ha hadn’t always had to live like this — he remembered the many chances he’d been given, the many opportunities he’d thrown away without a second thought.

There had been so many foster homes, so many opportunities to settle down and be good, but Jae-ha had always proven too much for them. Too reckless, too rowdy, too difficult. He’d watched the foster parents’ patience run itself out over many a different occasion: one too many bad grades, one too many fights. The list went on but the cycle was always the same. Jae-ha’d run away, he’d lie to get himself a place on a friend’s couch and steal from strangers and shops to make ends meet on the street. It would take about a week until child services found him again and placed him under another foster parent’s care. And again, and again, his childhood forever stuck in repeat.

When he’d thought he’d seen the worst, Jae-ha had been fourteen, only recently placed in the home of his next foster parent, Garou. He’d been proven wrong — there was always worse to come.

Garou’s eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, his face as pale as a fish’s underbelly — that tell-tale hollow look of a former addict. He’d only ever agreed to take Jae-ha in for the money and tax reductions, that and the added bonus of having Jae-ha as a canvas so he could sell pills to the seniors at the local school. Even though he’d been only fourteen then, Jae-ha’d needed only one good look at the man to know he’d be trouble of the worst kind. He’d simply been too young to imagine how bad it could possibly get.

In Garou’s house, there’d been only two rules: one, no talking unless asked, and two, no leaving his room when Garou had guests over. The thought that a man like him could have guests had seemed a ridiculous notion at first, but every month, Jae-ha’d been told to stay still in his room and not make a sound as several men’s voices had drifted from downstairs.

Jae-ha remembered that cursed day when it’d all gone wrong like it had happened no more than a week ago, even though it had already been thirteen years. It had been before Gi-gan and the crew, before he’d run away one last time, before even the chains. He’d been in his room when he’d heard the faint rumble of voices and the creak of the wooden flooring as heavy footsteps landed on old boards. Jae-ha should have stayed in the room but he’d been young and foolishly convinced that rules were meant to be broken.

That day, he’d learned that some weren’t, not unless you had the skills to turn the game around after being dealt a losing hand. But life hadn’t taught Jae-ha that lesson then; it was yet to come.

His first mistake had been coming down the stairs. Of course, Jae-ha hadn’t realised it yet, not until he’d turned his head in the direction of the living room, seen three men there. Two had stood by the wall, their heads shaved and so much ink on them that they looked like vandalised statues, head-to-toe in street art. Their eyes had followed him as Jae-ha had frozen on the landing, one foot on the ground floor, in his grave. There was much he’d have done differently now but it was different then. He’d not known what to do, what to say, how to rewind time.

Another man had sat on the couch, his eyes flickering between Jae-ha and Garou expectantly. “Who’s this, Garou?” he’d asked, voice like sandpaper. “You didn’t tell us you had a kid.”

“I didn’t know I had one until recently,” Garou had lied, giving young Jae-ha a look that the boy could have only interpreted as a warning. “Just ignore him, he ain’t got nobody to fink us to.”

The air in the room had shifted dangerously upon Jae-ha’s arrival, the skin on his arms tingling with the same bad feeling that had always told him when to swing, when to put his hands up to avoid a blow to the face. That day, it told him, simply, to _run_.

_Run_, it had warned as the man had smiled, the resemblance to a shark’s mouth unshakable. “Come sit with us, boy.”

“No, he really shouldn’t,” Garou had said, shifting nervously in his seat.

“I say he should.” 

_Run_, the voice had said again once Jae-ha had rounded the wall separating the living room and hallway, once the table by the couch had come into his view. Clear plastic bags had sat atop it — some filled with dozens of pills, blues, oranges, and hot pinks like candy, others speckled with champagne-yellow crystal shards, with snow-white glimmering flakes. As he’d sat down, Jae-ha’d quickly realised that he’d been in the middle of something nobody else should have borne witness to.

“Sure you don’t wanna give nadai a round?” the man had said then, attention directed back to Garou. “It’s still new in Kai, you know, impossible to get around here. Kids here gonna bite.”

“You know this place ain’t got the kind of crowd. Ain’t nobody here gonna buy that shit.”

The man had looked back at Garou in challenge, had produced a tiny veil from his jacket pocket. A glimmer of metal had caught Jae-ha’s eye, there and then gone. It’d been the first time he’d seen a gun. It wouldn’t be the last.

“It’s getting them to try the first time, after that you ain’t gonna be able to keep the supply,” the man had said, then turned to Jae-ha. “You wanna give it a try, kid?”

_Run_, the voice had shouted. And again, he’d not.

Jae-ha had swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, forced himself to speak. From across the room, he’d seen Garou shake his head. “Think I’m good.”

“Don’t look at him. You look at me,” the man had said, his voice dangerously light, like shallow waters. “You ever try anything?”

He’d shaken his head, felt the shivers run up and down his spine.

“I don’t want him fucking with that shit,” Garou had tried again, and as much as Jae-ha had hated that man, for the first time, he’d felt grateful. “He’s fourteen.”

“Older than you were when you started,” the man had replied. “Don’t think I don’t remember.”

Then, to Jae-ha’s shock and horror, the man had produced a knife, one of the hunting blades they had on TV, edges serrated like the open ribcage of some tiny animal. He’d opened the bottle-cap of the vial and dipped the tip in the liquid. For the first time in his life, Jae-ha had been scared. He’d been frozen. Deer in the headlights.

_Run_, the voice had come again. _Jump the couch and get out through the back door_.

“Man, we started off the blue stars, not this shit.”

“You shut the fuck up.” The man had tipped the blade forward, towards Jae-ha. “Ain’t nobody talking to you, man.”

_Last chance_. He hadn’t taken it. _Twist the blade, sink it into his neck_. He hadn’t had the courage. _Run and don’t look back_. His legs hadn’t had the strength to carry him.

“Come on, it ain’t gonna kill you.”

Jae-ha’s greatest mistake had come as soon as he’d leaned in. He’d looked at the single drop at the tip of the knife and thought that nothing this small could be that bad.

Like a heartbeat, like a wardrum, his instincts had sung: _Run-run-run-r—_

The metal had been cold around his lips, he remembered well. The taste of nadai had splashed acrid, bitter on his tongue. When nothing had happened at first, he’d been confused. When the men had left, he’d been hopeful. And then, when the spine-tingling chills of fever-like waves had finally come for him, hot and cold, he’d no longer felt anything at all. His teeth and mouth had gone numb; his fingers had been sweaty, as cold as ice. Once he’d made the mistake of closing his eyes, the darkness had claimed and discarded him into orbit, consciousness spinning out like the arms of a clock.

The hallucinations had come soon after, they’d come with the intensity of a steam train, one he’d not seen coming until it had hit him in full. Hands had shot out from the dark as he’d tried to run away, to fly if he had to. The floor had pooled like water around his ankles, then hardened to stone, and Jae-ha couldn’t have moved, knees buckling and giving out underneath his efforts. Twice, the fog of delirium had lifted long enough for him to see ropes tied around his ankles and cloth taped to his wrists, though only later had he been himself enough to comprehend that Garou had done it to keep Jae-ha from scratching at his own eyes and face. Then, the currents had pulled him under again and he’d been delirious for days, fucked up for weeks after still. Nothing had been real for the longest time, everything a nightmare. Day-in, day-out.

Once the daze had lifted, the cravings had settled in, strong and ugly, and monstrous. Garou had been there, he’d switched the ropes to chains when Jae-ha’d started using them to burn his ankles; he’d been there through the worst of it, an anchor and a nightmare, a saviour and a monster. All the same.

But Jae-ha had survived, the only scars of the battle buried in his mind. They’d mend, he’d heal. It hadn’t been long after he’d turned fifteen when he’d ran away again, the streets the only home he’d ever needed. He’d tracked the dealers down and set their supplies on fire. He’d even taken the man’s blade, he’d used it since and even smuggled it into prison with him, cut Hiyou with it. Been stronger with it, a reminder where he’d started and why he couldn’t stop. No longer was he the boy who’d not known any better. The man he’d become had learned to pack the heat of a life’s worth of hardship in his punches. The man he’d become was someone who was always on his guard, always ready, never bested by anyone again.

In the delirium of the nadai high, the ropes and chains had been his nightmare. In prison, the chains had weighed on his mind but they hadn’t cost him anything he’d not been prepared to part with. Now, he stood terrified at the thought what committing to the Bureau might be like, tied down to an organisation he didn’t trust, put on a leash and tethered to some device he could only see as another set of chains. But perhaps now was long enough? Perhaps he would be alright, if not for himself then for the one person that he could let himself trust as much as he trusted his own two hands? Was that what Kija had become to him?

Pulling the winter coat tighter around his body in an attempt to shield himself from the cold and the memories that could cause him pain, Jae-ha crossed the street towards the Golden Lily.

He was about three hours early, nervous, and in desperate need of a drink. A disaster in the making.

The bar itself was one of the nicer venues in town — walls with wooden-framed panels of exposed brick-stacks and turquoise-satin seats with ornate legs. Overhead, gold-sprayed industrial pipes connected in intricate decorative patterns, and lamps hung down on strings, just bulbs in green-glass bottles. For a Friday night, the Golden Lily was, understandably, packed full of collars out for a drink after work, flush-cheeked university students treating themselves to the rare occasion of a fancy cocktail, and the more intimate date or two.

As Jae-ha walked across to the bar and took a seat in the only available space, a lone high chair, he felt oddly foreign to the blissful happiness of these people. For a moment, Jae-ha almost let himself imagine he and Kija were just two people meeting here — two people without a past like theirs. He looked around, the bar suddenly full of other versions of himself and Kija, of what kind of conversations they’d be having, of what kind of heat their kisses would be leaving.

But no, the laughter of these people felt too light-hearted, too scripted, their happiness having been so easily earned, perhaps even taken for granted from the very start. 

Neither he nor Kija had known a life like this simple.

“Hello there, what can I get you?” greeted one of the bartenders, a black-haired girl that looked like she was barely legal to work here. Part-time probably, still at university. Once more, something Jae-ha knew nothing of.

“I need a drink. Probably a few,” Jae-ha said, and when she was about to press for more, added, “Anything. Don’t tell me what it is, just make it extra strong.”

The girl eyed him warily. “Yeah, just a second—Tora, _taihen da_! I’ve got another unhappy-hour for you here!”

Jae-ha’s eyes followed the black-haired girl as she signalled another girl over. In his life, he’d been called many things but — and he had to admit — “unhappy-hour” had to be a first. If only she’d seen him on a good day, he’d have probably paid for the whole bar’s drinks and then some.

“My, Ayura was right,” said the second bartender — Tetora, as the name tag kindly supplied. “You look like you need a hug, handsome.”

“While I’m not saying _no_ to you outright, I really need a drink first. Something strong.”

With a nod and a look of silent contemplation, finger to her lips, Tetora pulled several bottles from behind the bar. “So, which one is it: heartbreak, got fired? Lost all your savings at the casino?”

Jae-ha’s brow quirked upward. “Does that last one happen often around here?”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, flipping her hair back. “That rules out number three then. Heartbreak?”

With a wave of dismissal, Jae-ha remained silent. The conversation was tiring him out already, turning into background noise as the sound of his own thoughts demanded his attention, pushing forward, pushing free.

“Okay, you can keep your secrets, handsome. I already know just the drink for you.”

“Psychic?” Jae-ha teased with an easy smile.

Tetora mirrored it with one of her own. “You can call it whatever you want but I call it experience.”

Jae-ha took the opportunity to hide behind the craft of small talk. Anything would do — he let Tetora tell him how long she’d been working at the bar, let her dissect the kind of crowd which came to gather here. But even then, he found himself nodding along absently. His mind was buzzing, was elsewhere entirely, and Jae-ha wished he wasn’t this nervous to face a question he already knew the answer to.

“There,” Tetora said with a wicked grin. If Jae-ha hadn’t been in one of his special moods, perhaps he’d have thought it better not to taste anything served with the kind of sly smile that said he was likely being served poison. But perhaps poison was what he needed. “Now try it.”

Jae-ha looked at the concoction tentatively and bracing himself, downed it before it could disintegrate his mouth or worse.

“What the hell,” he said, the aftertaste of drain water on his tongue. “That was foul. Why would you even make something this bitter?”

Tetora laughed. “To remind you that there’s always more bitter things out there.”

“Darling, if I wanted to be bitter, I wouldn’t have gone to a bar.” Shaking his head, Jae-ha waved in the direction of the loud university students on the other side of the bar. “I need whatever they’re having, even if it’s pink and sparkling. Anything’s got to be better than that poison.”

Tetora nodded, though her smile told him that she’d gotten the reaction she’d set out to wrench away from him. “Right on it. I’ll fix you something nice, I promise.”

“_Please_ do,” he said.

Jae-ha leaned forward with his elbows against the bar, drumming a faint beat against the wood. Each time he made it from pinky to forefinger, he shifted his attention on another person, and another, and another. Almost as if he were on a mission, Jae-ha was scanning the crowd, though this time of sheer curiosity. Like why the girl at the back of the room was so excited and giddy, clearly flirting as she rested her hand playfully on her friend’s arm. Or why the couple by the doors was having an argument, something about someone else.

Amidst such normality, Jae-ha felt himself the odd one out; the foreigner in a country where he knew neither the language nor the culture. What was he even doing? He was supposed to be leaving Saika tomorrow morning and yet his corner back in the safehouse was the only one left unpacked. The crew was moving onto the next challenge, the next evil to get rid of, the next place to settle in. 

Forty hours ago, he would have been packing with them and going on with his life the way he knew how. Then, why did this feel so right? Despite the uncertainty about Kija’s agency looming overhead, despite the fear induced from his past and the threats to his future?

For the first time in so long, the voice he trusted wasn’t telling him to run. For the first time, Jae-ha felt right.

There, Kija’s arms around him, he’d felt like he hadn’t needed to watch his back and he’d trusted someone enough to lower his guard. There, as he’d spent the night and early morning peppering that moon-pale skin with kisses, nearly asleep, he’d felt found. Better, he’d felt like he’d never been lost to begin with. And as he’d tried to kiss the pain away from the blooming bruise across Kija’s cheekbone, Jae-ha had already found his answer.

That, _yes_, he’d follow that boy anywhere, across Kouka and back again. The place hardly mattered, only the warmth of those arms did.

When he’d told the crew, they’d not spoken a word, not at first, their stricken faces and wide eyes near-comical. Only Gi-gan had smiled, as if she’d known all along that this day would come. Perhaps she had. Her words, spoken many months ago and as though belonging to a different life, a different Jae-ha’s memory, echoed now: “No one is a thief forever”.

Perhaps it was true after all. Perhaps a thief’s fate had always been sealed to end once they’d found something worth keeping and holding onto.

It must have been Jae-ha’s fourth drink already and the clock was slowly ticking its way to 9 at night. Alcohol fuelling his dreams, Jae-ha could already imagine how the light from the bulbs overhead would catch like silver flame on Kija’s hair. How flushed his skin would look, pink across his cheeks and nose as he came in from the cold winter night. He could imagine that smile — and for the love of all that could be stolen, did his heart not beat only for that smile — as it lit up Kija’s face, gave him his angelic glow.

“Someone once told me that no one is a thief forever,” Jae-ha would say as Kija came over, “and it must be true because I’ve decided to be yours forever instead.”

Was it too much, was it not enough? Jae-ha didn’t know. He was better at improvising anyway. He’d speak his mind and heart, and he’d lace his fingers with Kija’s. And life would somehow be better, fate making amends for all that had gone wrong in Jae-ha’s life before. If he’d suffered through all so he could have this moment here and every moment after this, then so be it.

Jae-ha heard the sound of the bar door open, the bell above the door chiming out in welcome, and he turned around, giddy and drunk enough to expect Kija this early. But as he gazed past his shoulder at the men that had just entered the Golden Lily, Jae-ha’s heart froze between one beat and the next. 

Of course, he recognised the men — fabric bunching at one hip, clad in black as they were now and had been the day they chased him and Kija. 

_Run_, his trusty instinct said, and by this time, he’d become smart enough to trust it.

Turning back to the bar, Jae-ha called out for Tetora. “Darling, I need you to do me a favour. In about half an hour, a boy with white hair is going to be waiting for me here. Please tell him, and this is important,” he watched her nod, “that our friends from yesterday night came looking for me. Can you do that, love?”

Tetora’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

Through the distorted reflection of the glass wall adjacent to the bar, Jae-ha watched three black figures stop at the foot of the door, saw them look around.

“I may need to use the staff exit,” said Jae-ha in renewed urgency then, leaned forward. “Can you show me where it is?”

Perplexed, the girl stuttered. “I’m not—I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

As he threw a cautious look behind his shoulder, his gaze wove itself together with one of the men’s. Jae-ha stood suddenly, the legs of the barstool scraping against the floor. The other men’s eyes snapped in Jae-ha’s direction, like magnets. Forward they came now.

“Look, do you want a fight inside the bar?” Jae-ha asked hurriedly, turning back around to watch Tetora’s eyes widen. “Staff exit, now.”

“Okay, okay! Through here,” Tetora hissed back, unlatching a clip underneath the bar. 

From somewhere behind him, Jae-ha heard the jostle of glasses, a faint _excuse me_, a dull _thud_. But he dared not look back, slipping into the bar as soon as Tetora had raised the board.

“Go past the storage space. And don’t steal any bottles or I’ll kill you before these guys do!” Tetora pointed at a single door on the side of the bar, Jae-ha already running. “My gosh, Lili doesn’t pay me enough for this!”

As Jae-ha slammed shoulder-first into the staff space, he bumped into the smaller, black-haired bartender. She screamed, he cursed.

Behind him, someone dropped a glass and another yelped. The crowd fell silent all as one, only the music left and the hard clap of three pairs of shoes against the wooden flooring. _Run_, the trusty voice said again, and this time louder: _run and don’t look back_. And so he did, forward even as he squeezed past half-opened boxes of glasses and bottles, tape hanging loose. His heart was in his throat, his path towards the exit paved only by the neon-green sign overhead and the urgency of the sounds of a commotion happening behind him.

At the exit, Jae-ha forced the door open. Fast as lightning, he tore outside in a bolt and immediately ran into a wall. He felt his shoulder rattle, the impact suddenly jarring.

No, not a wall, he realised, as it moved and put its arms on his shoulder, spinning him onto the street. Jae-ha looked up, around, and recognised the silhouettes of two men.

“You thought to guard the back door this time?” he asked with a chuckle, trying to catch his breath. 

Just then, the exit door to the bar swung open to reveal the three men who’d stormed in after him. At the edge of the alley, one of the lackeys raised his hand and Jae-ha recognised the glint of metal. He was holding a gun.

“Jae-ha, is it?” the man said.

Jae-ha tensed. “Have we had the pleasure?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Then it won’t be personal if I choose to defend myself, yeah?” Jae-ha said with a lazy smile, pulling out the blades from the hidden compartment in his sleeves.

Five on one. Even by his standard, those were terrible odds.

The man with the gun released the safety. “I would advise that you don’t make any sudden moves, for the sake of your little gang.”

“You’re bluffing,” Jae-ha said, his heart going into a panic. He masked the rising terror with feigned confidence. “My crew can fend off any number of men you send.”

“Perhaps.” The man smiled. “But your friend back in Awa can’t. He’s got a pretty fiancée now, doesn’t he?”

Had they done something to them? Had they already gotten to them or were they keeping them at the other end of a rifle’s scope this very moment? Panic was rising from within Jae-ha, engulfing him like a fire from within. If he went with them, then what? Would he be killed? Would he be tortured?

“I want your word,” he said finally.

“It’s not them you should be worried about.”

He felt dread creep up. _Run_, the voice said again, but this time, he could not follow.

“Do you remember Gobi?” one of the men asked.

Jae-ha simply nodded, the movement only half-visible in the backstreet lights of the neon-green exit sign.

“He sends his regards,” the man said, “but you should already know. An eye for an eye, you understand how it is.”

And as the man gestured for Jae-ha to follow him to the end of the alley and into a black sedan, they pulled a hood over his head. The world went away, the screeching of tires and the hurried drum of his heart the only sounds to attest that he was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a bit later today because this chapter felt rather difficult to edit (plus, my sleeping schedule is proper fucked now so I don't even know what daytime is anymore). I was trying to walk the fine line between taking the topic of Jae-ha's nadai past seriously enough but also not overdoing it. The first draft I had of this was quite dark and it broke my heart to read it, I needed to tone it down a bit, hence why this chapter may feel shorter than the rest. If any of you are uncomfortable with over-explicit content, please do let me know as the next few chapters will be exploring topics related to nadai use and I don't want to trigger anyone
> 
> We're entering the last arc of this story now, Jae-ha and Kija are finally on the same page; what could possibly go wrong? I'll be seeing you next Monday for Chapter 19! :)


	19. A Promise Long Overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, dear Reader! Hope you enjoy this chapter, even if a little later than I anticipated to post it (sorry!) :)

—Kija—

Saika PD lacked any of the HQ’s grandeur and as Kija descended the building’s twisting corridors, he noted that it also lacked the sense of coordination he’d come to expect from a Bureau building. If he were to turn around, he’d not be able to tell apart the exact conference room he’d left merely moments ago from any other room on the floor. Doors were all the same, wood and no labelling, and Kija pushed down on metal handles at random, some locked and unmoving, others leading to empty offices with their lights turned off.

Kija himself was a jumble of nerves today. He’d been awake for far too long, getting by on a quick hour-nap after the morning report and then a string of coffees that had only succeeded in kickstarting his heartbeat to a dangerous stutter of palpitations. His palms were sweaty, just a little, both from nerves and from the call he’d just had with Chief Mun-Dok. A quick peek at his wrist-watch told him there was only about a half-hour until his meeting with Jae-ha and Kija’s heart thumped loudly in his chest already. It beat in anticipation that he’d be able to see him again and in excitement that he’d finally have some good news to share. If only he could navigate himself out of the PD first.

Voices came drifting in from across the corridor. Kija could just make out Hak’s baritone, that madly familiar tone which Kija had been forced to hear every day since his dormitory years back in the Academy when he’d been rooming with the other agent. Kija made his way toward it, the proud clip of his leather shoes hard and loud against the tiled floor. He was clad in his best suit today, the light beige one that hugged his frame at all the right places.

If he told himself it wasn’t because he wanted Jae-ha to appreciate it and perhaps gain a few ideas as to how best he could take it off, he’d be lying through his teeth. 

As Kija opened the door and stepped into the room, everyone fell silent. The scope of anticipation in the room ranged from zero to about a hundred. On one end of the spectrum, Hak had been pacing back and forth, Kija could tell from the abrupt stop he’d made in the middle of the space. On the other, Zeno was still spinning in his chair, bumping into and rattling poor Shin-ah’s desk at every full turn.

“Northern Kai?” asked Hak, hands on his hips. The agents always joked that it was Yoon who acted like a doting parent, but really, Hak was a close contender for the title, if only anyone would dare call him out on it.

Kija shook his head. “They can’t just send me to a disciplinary base for suggesting that we add another agent to the team, you know.”

“Yeah, they could. If that agent is a criminal _and_ the reason you got shipped off to Kai in the first place.”

“It was only two months.”

If looks could kill, Hak would only need to blink once. “Wasn't it enough for you?”

From across the room, Yona slapped the folders she was holding down on her desk and clapped her hands together expectantly. “Ignore him, he’s been acting up all day. How did it go?” she asked, eyes bright.

Kija gave her an easy smile. “The Chief agreed.”

At the words, he saw Hak’s tension visibly ease up from his shoulders, be it that nobody was getting shipped off to northern Kai or that he’d not have to suffer through one of Kija’s low moods at being told _no_.

Yona gave a tiny cheer. “I told you Mun-Dok would! Isn’t he the best?” Hak gave her a sharp look as if to remind her that her future grandfather-in-law was first and foremost her employer; she pointedly ignored him. “Was Joo-Doh also on the call?”

Of course, Captain Joo-Doh had been and he’d not seemed particularly thrilled by that fact, either. Through the low-res display, Kija had watched the Captain’s expression pass through a dozen shades of shocked, horrified, insulted, and infuriated. Even though Saika PD’s cheap monitors split Joo-Doh into barely two pixels, it was two pixels too many and his twisted face would haunt Kija’s nightmares for years to come. Now more than ever, the detective wished to see Jae-ha join the team as a consultant if only so that Kija and Hak could silently snicker at the fifty shades of fury and scorn making themselves known across Captain Joo-Doh’s face.

“He was and of course, he opposed,” said Kija. “But the Chief kindly reminded him that he’s only on the call for his own information, not as a decision-maker.” Hak whistled, a devilish grin splitting his face like the Cheshire cat himself. “I’ll need written and signed authorisation forms from all of you. Oh and Hak, the Chief requested you as a supervisor.”

“Great, more work for me,” Hak said. “I thought you were going to be supervising.”

“Well, technically, you’re going to be supervising _me_ supervising Jae-ha.”

Hak groaned. “What, I’m supposed to report whether you guys are keeping it PG during work hours?”

Kija felt himself flush violently, the heat sparking like wildfire from his cheeks all the way to his neck. He watched as Yona gave a hard slap to Hak’s chest, succeeding only in making Kija’s embarrassment worse.

“Don’t get me wrong” said Hak when it became clear Kija hadn’t the composure to reply, “but your new boyfriend seems like a pain in the ass.”

“You’re one to talk,” mumbled Yona.

“Hak, you’ve only seen him _once_,” Kija said, “and need I remind you, he was unconscious for the majority of you meeting him so you can’t say that for a fact.”

“But you admit it’s true?”

Well, when he put it like that...

“Somewhat,” Kija murmured in defeat. It wasn’t at the expense of Jae-ha’s virtue if it was true, right? _Right_?

“I’ve had an idea,” Yona intervened, quick to catch on Kija’s rising discomfort, bless her. She put her hands around Hak in a loving embrace, and said, “We should go celebrate for a job well done.”

Kija understood well where the suggestion was coming from. Matters concerning Jae-ha aside, yesterday had been an important night for the team — perhaps their biggest breakthrough since Kum-Ji, — and all of them were buzzing with excitement, even though the adrenaline had long since worn off. With the men calling the shots and their direct subordinates now taken into custody, it wouldn’t take long for the pawns to start falling into disarray.

“Sounds good to me,” replied Hak, suddenly reduced to smiles now that Yona was in his arms. Honestly, it wasn’t as though _he_ had any right to talk about keeping it PG...

“Surprised you seem so eager,” Soo-Won said aloud what everyone was thinking. “Are you prepared to lose another round of _Karaoke Hime_?”

Hak scoffed. “I was thinking more along the lines of a round of drinks but you kids can do whatever you want.”

“You said the same thing last time but I still seem to recall you singing ‘We Will Rock You’ twice in a row,” said Soo-Won with mischief in his tone. “Or was that just my imagination, perhaps?”

“Hey now, you were all clapping,” Hak said, pointing an accusatory finger in no particular direction.

Yona giggled. “Because it’s part of the song, silly.”

The detective consulted his watch again. He’d hoped to arrive at the Golden Lily early but now it looked like he might even be a few minutes late. Kija picked up his coat from where it hung off the armrest of one of the chairs and dusted it off.

“I’m meeting Jae-ha at the Golden Lily first but I’ll join you later,” he said. “Maybe I’ll bring him with me?”

“Oh, how exciting,” Yona cheered in delight. “I really want to meet him!”

Yoon simply sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just when I thought one couple on the team was already too much to handle.”

Knowing he didn’t have the time to argue or even correct anyone that he and Jae-ha were not a couple _yet_, Kija chose to remain silent. In his line of work, silence was neither an agreement, nor an objection. For once, he could live with that.

Inside his chest, Kija’s heart was in shambles and in his mind, his thoughts were tangled in chaos. Everything was happening so fast, so suddenly. He yearned to see Jae-ha in a way he’d never felt before — almost as if seeing him after all this time had suddenly forced open the floodgates of feelings he’d been struggling to keep in check for all those months. He’d been so handsome, his face somehow having taken the rough lines of someone who’d seen the ugly part of life and lived to tell the tale. Kija didn’t know what the last six months had been like for Jae-ha but he wished, if he could not take them away, that at least he’d be able to make the present worthwhile, the future bright enough to look forward to, their time together something to fight for.

And yet, Kija felt anything but ready to see him. His talk with Mun-Dok had been a success and with that good news, he thought he could finally face Jae-ha in earnest but he was so nervous, his heart might have burst. All the confidence he’d built these months was suddenly coming apart under the very thought of the heat in Jae-ha’s demanding gaze.

Kija was already at the stairs when he heard the rush of footsteps behind him and turned around to see Zeno. “Did I forget something?”

“Where were you meeting mister again?” asked Zeno, the seriousness in his voice enough to send Kija backpedalling. “The Golden Lily, was it?”

“Yes,” the detective said carefully. “Why?”

“You need to come see this.”

With Zeno in the lead, the two returned to the conference room where the rest of the team looked just as perplexed as Kija felt.

“Here.” The boy pointed at a recent entry in the police registry. “The PD received a call from one of the bartenders there about ten minutes ago. The report says something about three armed men storming inside. They’ve dispatched a unit just now.”

Kija felt an overwhelming surge to flee as the detective part of him supplied the pieces of a puzzle he’d not known he’d have to solve. Armed men. Inside the Golden Lily, at the same time that Jae-ha was supposed to have arrived. This was no coincidence, the pragmatic side of him said as his heart quickened its beat and the blood circulating through his body turned to ice. In his haste to solidify a plan for the future and escape the mistakes of the past, Kija had all but forgotten the pressing matter of the present: the riddle of the men who’d followed Jae-ha since his arrival in Saika.

He could find no words, as though struck by lightning, but a force strong like gravity pulled his gaze to Hak. The two exchanged looks and Kija could only hope that he’d managed to communicate the dread he felt in a single, wordless whisper of a glance.

“We’re going too,” agent Hak said then. “Assuming the report’s correct, then Jae-ha has probably fled and we still have time to catch the men before they get to him. Soo-Won, get your coat. Kija, your gun.”

Yona was about to protest, likely offer to join them, when Soo-Won stopped her. “You stay here. Dig out whatever you can find on any person named ‘Gobi’. The name’s not sat right with me since Kija mentioned it yesterday.”

“Leave it to me!” she said and gave Kija a quick squeeze to his arm before the three agents were at the foot of the door and down the stairs. 

The cogs of the well-tuned detective machine that was Kija’s brain were turning, albeit at war with his heart. He didn’t want any of this to be true, didn’t want to have been caught unprepared at a time when he’d just let himself dream. But he’d lowered his guard. A part of him told him that he should have expected this; another reminded him that there’d been too many things to think about, that he’d let it slip. Kija trusted that Jae-ha would have escaped, it was, after all, what a man of his calling did best, but he’d rather not leave it to chance.

“Kija, I need you to speak your thoughts on this one,” said Hak as the agents filed into one of the cruisers, Soo-Won in the back.

There was a roar as Hak started the engine and the sirens blared to life. “I don’t know who Gobi is but his men are after Jae-ha, that much we know,” said Kija. “Before the mission yesterday, one man was following him. He could have taken a shot at him but he didn’t, he only pulled out his gun when I came into the picture.”

“So, they only shot at you?” Soo-Won asked from the back seat.

Hak scoffed at the question. “Hard to know the answer to that when you’re the one getting shot at, don’t you think, Soo-Won?”

“It makes it all the more confusing,” the other agent argued. “If they want Jae-ha alive, I fear what for.”

Kija did too. “The man said, ‘We have a blood debt to collect’. If this Gobi was killed and Jae-ha was responsible, I can imagine they would want him alive, for now.”

_For now_. The words echoed dully across the inside of the car, the blare of the sirens only magnifying the thick cloud of tension which had engulfed the compartment. It was a dangerous concept, this “for now”. It was a moment defined by none, a moment which could span a week, a day, an hour. Worst of all, it could be a moment which had already passed, unbeknownst to Kija.

“We have ourselves a tail,” said Hak as the cruiser flew through the scattered traffic, each car having pulled to the side of the road to let them pass. “Suppose Joo-Doh’s dog didn’t get the memo?”

Confused, Kija was about to ask until he peeked through the mirror and saw the bounce of street lights across the black paint of an all too familiar car he’d become used to seeing outside his bedroom window.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said absently as the car’s headlights followed them down the next crossroad, and the next one after that too.

Even now — no, especially now — he could not let this stand between him and Jae-ha. There was a special place awaiting Joo-Doh if Kija could have any say in it.

“Pull over.”

Hak lifted his gaze from the road long enough to peer at Kija, his eyebrows closely knit together. “What? We’re in the middle of a highway, I can’t just—”

“I said pull over.”

“Why?”

“To give him a piece of my mind,” Kija said, only feigning calm at a time when all he wanted was to shout.

Hak shook his head, eyes back on the road. “That can wait until after.”

It could, of course, it _could_. But the patience that Kija had somehow harboured for so long had run itself thin. So very thin that it was close to snapping, like a string gone taut, pulled too far back.

He’d been patient when they’d forced him to leave Jae-ha’s side six months ago, without even a chance to offer an explanation. He’d been patient when they’d shipped him off to that god-forsaken base in northern Kai for two long months, where he’d counted days and felt the hours tick by, each agonising minute by the next. He’d been patient after, too, when Captain Joo-Doh had forced administrative work onto him and told him he’d not be fit for fieldwork for the next few months, when Kija had been trailed by agents, his privacy decimated just as far as his dignity had been wounded.

Yes, Kija had been patient the way he’d been taught. No questions asked, no orders challenged — just the way his late father had always deemed it so, the way he’d instilled it into him. But patience be damned now. Little good it had done him, very little it would do now. That same patience had reached a breaking point a long time ago and if Kija had done well to keep it at bay then, he could not stop it now.

As the Golden Lily swam into view then, empty and cordoned off by the local policemen who’d arrived first at the scene, Hak pulled the cruiser in park. Kija was already out of the car before Hak had even pulled the hand-brake.

“Tell him that Joo-Doh should go fuck himself,” Hak shouted after him.

“Bad idea,” came in Soo-Won’s voice. “Don’t actually say that—Hak, the _brake_!—”

Kija was, and always had been, a man to abstain from vulgarity and solutions that involved his fists, even though they itched to throw a punch now. Those he’d save for when he found the men who were after Jae-ha. His words he’d not.

The car pulled in close by, at the corner, and Kija knocked on the driver side’s window, doing his best not to push his fist through. The man, perhaps too confused by this rather unexpected turn of events to know better, rolled down the window.

“Listen here, you fiend,” Kija said and for heaven’s sake, there was very little he would _not_ have said at that very moment. “If Joo-Doh wants to prosecute me, he should get on with it. He doesn’t even have to have a reason. In fact, instead of following me, why don’t you go back to your office and help him file all the paperwork? I don’t care. Just take your business elsewhere,” Kija glared him down now, “and begone. Next time I cross the street, I’d better not see you or—”

“Okay, that’s enough there, tiger,” said Hak, dragging him back by the shoulders. “Threats only work if you leave something to the imagination.”

Soo-Won had his head down, palm to his forehead. “I’ve entered a world where you two have exchanged roles and it’s a dark and scary place.”

The detective pushed the doors to the Golden Lily open, flashing his badge at the lone policeman left at the entrance. Kija had hoped for a different scene tonight. He’d hoped for low bar music and a chatty crowd, for laughter and a good mood, for the disarming smile of the man he’d come to know as the only one he’d ever want to be an equal to. Instead, what greeted him was a crime scene with no bodies, just smashed glass and three ladies, the bartenders perhaps, who looked about as young as they allowed people to work in a place like this.

As Hak excused himself to go speak to the policemen outside, Kija and Soo-Won approached the bar. Two were bartenders, a blonde woman named Tetora and a short brunette Ayura, and the third girl, Lili, was the owner, though it was beyond Kija how anybody who looked barely old enough to drink had come to own a bar. It mattered little, however, and his brain, wired as it was, quickly compartmentalised all the unnecessary information away.

“I’m detective Kija and this is my partner, Soo-Won. Would it be alright if we asked you a few questions regarding the incident?” he brought himself to ask, pulling up the report as it had been worded on the PD’s registry. 

“Not a problem, detective,” the owner said, her voice clipped despite the pleasantry, “though I already spoke to the officers. There isn’t much we can tell you, the men were in and out before there could be any scuffle.”

“Yes,” Kija said. “But we have reason to believe this is more than just a regular scuffle between drunks so if I may?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

The detective cleared his throat. “Did this perhaps have anything to do with a particular man in attendance of the bar? Green hair, purple coat. Of tall and lean build.” 

“Oh,” one of the bartenders said suddenly, Tetora, if he remembered the name correctly. “Yes. He did say a boy with white hair might come looking for him.”

Kija exchanged knowing looks with Soo-Won. “Yes, that sounds like him,” he said. “I’m afraid I cannot disclose the full details but he might be in danger so if you could please tell us what happened.”

The bartender looked alarmed. “He said to tell you that the men were his ‘friends’ from yesterday night. I suppose you’d know what he meant?”

“It’s as we feared,” Soo-Won replied then. “What happened then?”

As the bartender recounted the event, Kija’s mind was already ahead of her story. Jae-ha had gone for the staff exit, but she’d heard a scuffle outside. More men must have been waiting for him there then, having already anticipated that he might try to make a run for it. Did that mean he’d managed to escape them or perhaps the odds had been unbeatable, even for someone like Jae-ha?

Just as Kija’s mind arrived at the conclusion that it was in fact far worse than they’d feared, that perhaps Jae-ha hadn’t managed to get himself out of this one, Hak came in through the doors.

“I’ve got bad news,” he said and Kija’s treacherous heart skipped a beat even if his mind had already known. “There are car tracks in the snow and six sets of footprints all lead to it.”

“Cameras?” Kija asked.

Hak simply shook his head. “Two at the bar front and one on the street but someone’s shot them out. Likely preemptively. There'd be no footage of the accident.”

Kija felt himself shiver with the sudden realisation that perhaps, this time he’d truly lost him. The wristwatch had until recently been a beacon, hope; more than that, it had been the only means of knowing exactly where Jae-ha was. Now, it sat atop Kija’s desk back in Saika PD, no longer transmitting Jae-ha’s location. Truly lost, truly apart, as Jae-ha had thought from the start.

Six months ago, Kija had said he’d find him. But he’d had a plan, he’d had his hope and his beacon. Now, he had nothing.

“I saw it,” said the quiet bartender who’d introduced herself as Ayura. “I was cleaning a table by the window when it happened. I didn’t see much but I saw the car as it sped away from the alley,” she said.

“Do you remember anything about the car?” Soo-Won asked. “Plate number, model, anything?”

She shook her head. “Not clearly but it was a black sedan. The plate was foreign and I didn’t see any numbers, I’m sorry.”

“A foreign registration?” mused Soo-Won, his face contorted in concentration. “Miss Ayura, did you by any chance notice anything about the driving itself?”

Kija wondered where he was going with this. Sometimes, Soo-Won’s mind went places none could follow. He was doing it again now, thinking at a hundred miles per hour when the rest could barely even follow, could only await the explanation.

“Not really. I don’t understand—what about the driving?”

“For example, whether it seemed like it was out of control?”

Ayura seemed to mull the question over, hand hovering to her chin. “Well, I don’t know. It was swerving a great deal more than my car does, I guess?”

Something in the answer seemed to fit Soo-Won’s puzzle. “That’s what I thought,” he said, almost as if to himself, and then, to the other agents: “From what Kija has said, we know Jae-ha’s been in Saika for more or less a week, so that means his pursuers must have arrived shortly after. A car coming from warm temperatures would still have its summer tires on, making it extremely difficult to control the car on Saika’s icy roads.”

“It would be warm now in Sei and Xing,” said Kija, trying to keep up.

“Yes, indeed, but think about it. Gobi isn’t a Koukan name, it’s not Sei either. It’s Xing.” Soo-Won pinched the space between his brows. “It might be just a guess to assume it’s a Xing registration plate but it’s better than what we have.”

Hak grinned and pulled out his phone, dialling. “Zeno, I need a location on a Xing-registered black sedan that still hasn’t changed to winter tires.”

The three agents thanked the ladies of the Golden Lily and made their way back to the cruiser. The ride back was silent but the agents’ minds were not. Kija’s thoughts were spinning out, forward into the hour and the next, faster than the car and beyond the road ahead.

Kija felt hope blaze through him, a match struck to light a spark. Before, he’d felt alone. In prison, only Jae-ha to be his guiding light. In northern Kai, alone with other agents who’d had the mentality of deserters in the midst of war. But now, he had Hak’s headstrong courage. He had Soo-Won’s quick wit and sharp mind. Yona’s undying support. And Zeno’s skill, and Shin-ah’s precision, and Yoon’s genius. He had them all and together, they’d find Jae-ha. They had to. He’d promised before but now was the time to follow up on what once he had not. He was overdue on a promise and Jae-ha was due a rescue.

Even here, in the grim streets paved by crime and the bloodied ends of a detective’s reality, a version of the story about the damsel and the knight in shining armour still existed. Jae-ha may be no damsel and the only shining metal on Kija may be just his gun but who said life would be a fairytale anyway? Jae-ha’s hands had blood on them and Kija had his scars, too. Who was to say that wasn’t enough to fight for a happy ending?

The agents took the stairs up the PD in a haste, two a time, three if one had Hak’s legs and stamina. “Report,” demanded Hak with the authority of someone who was already on his way to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.

“Looking through street cameras now,” said Zeno.

Yoon pulled a phone away from his ear. “I’ve sent out patrols to search for a car matching the description.”

Yona and Shin-ah, too, looked up from their computers. “We’ve got a lead on who this Gobi is.”

Kija peeled off his coat and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “What do you have?”

“A Xing human trafficking ring leader,” Yona said. “He was presumed dead following an incident two months ago when a group of unidentified criminals tore down the ring and liberated the people who’d been held there. He’s since resurfaced. We’ve got a recent photo of him here in the archives from no more than a month ago.”

“And he’s out for revenge,” Kija concluded for her. “Tale as old as time and yet here we are. Luckily enough, we’ve got ourselves someone who might be willing to tell us more, locked in a cell only two stories below.” 

Yona folded her arms in front of her as she rocked back on her chair. “The guy who shot at you, how could I possibly forget?” she said bitterly. “So, how do we extract information from an accomplice?”

“Manipulate him?” replied Soo-Won.

“Threaten him until he breaks?” suggested Shin-ah.

“Put a gun to his forehead?” asked Hak.

“You’re all horrible,” said Yoon. “Someone please remind me again why I wanted to work with you in the first place.”

Horrible or not, it came with the profession. One way or another, they’d have to pry information out of that man. He was their only lead and a location on the vehicle would not be enough. Kija had the motives; he now needed the plans. Why go through the trouble of taking Jae-ha alive and if so, for how long?

“Oh, I know!” sang Zeno. “We inject him with truth serum!”

Yoon was already pulling at his hair. “Dear heavens, for the last time, Zeno, there is no such thing as truth serum!”

Kija’s gaze travelled across the room and landed on Hak. The two exchanged a long look before the detective spoke again. “Good cop, bad cop,” Kija said. “Pick one, Hak. And no gun to the forehead please.”

The other agent bestowed him with a most bemused grin. “I threaten and you manipulate?”

“Don’t give it a bad name now. I like the classics.”

_Jae-ha_, thought Kija, _I’ll find you_. _This time and forevermore, I will always find you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, it's a Tuesday morning now (I'm so sorry!). I was volunteering at a local hospital yesterday and me being the dumbass I am forgot to post the chapter in the morning and then came home and went to bed as if nothing was wrong... (-_-)
> 
> Anyways, I'm really glad I got to write a bit more of the Happy Hungry Bunch's interactions here as I love every single one of them to bits but never seem to make enough space for their conversations! So, here's a bit, and there will be more to come. Plus, I got caught up on the latest chapters of the manga so my love for them has been rekindled once more. Also low-key forgot that Jae-ha and Kija weren't actually a thing in canon, oops
> 
> Next week's chapter is going to be an emotional one so strap in and be warned! That "I won't be going easy on anybody's feelings" tag is finally going to be put to good use after all. Hope to see you all for Chapter 20 and have a lovely week, people! :)


	20. On the Wings of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader! I present to you: the reason why I should burn in hell, probably
> 
> (Warning: Violence, Gore, and Drug Use)

—Jae-ha—

In his twenty-seven years of existence on this godforsaken planet, Jae-ha had spent nearly every day on the road, on the run, or on the unlucky end of someone’s wrath. He’d quickly learned to rely only on three things, in ascending order — his charm, his speed, and his knives.

The first, his charm, could usually get him only insofar as his compliments had an ear to fall on and his smile a pair of eyes to be feast upon. Sometimes, words were enough, but when they weren’t, when his charm failed, his speed was key. A fast jab, a mad swing to push somebody back long enough that Jae-ha could become one with the shadows and dash with the wind.

His knives, however, had always come as a last resort. Not because he trusted them least, but because he trusted them too much and if they were to fail, he’d have failed altogether. Few saw what he did in a blade’s reflection. Guns were reliable and lethal, but they were not personal. Not the way he knew personal — up so close that he could look death in the eye and still not blink. But knives were, they demanded that his aim be as true and steady as his heart. They were fast like the currents of rogue winds and unexpected like a bolt of lightning in good weather. Most of all, they were a memento of the days when his only armour had been a hunting knife stolen from a dealer’s grasp. Some of them had long, lean blades; others were short and jarred. Some had initials engraved on their handles that were not his but he’d taken on anyway; others were made entirely of polished bone or metal. But all of them had their history and all of them had once been his prize.

That was how he’d survived being wanted by none and abandoned by all, with his charm, his speed, and his beloved knives. He’d learned that when there was no one to guide you, when you were not meant for greatness or a normal life but were chosen instead to be tested every step of the way, you built your own armour. When the world owed you very little and had made it a habit of giving you even less, you learned to demand something of it anyway. 

And as the hood had come over his head like noose around the neck, Jae-ha had once again found himself demanding more than he’d been given. 

In the car, he’d tried to find some semblance of control, some anchor to keep his senses sharp. He’d listened to the sound of the wheels as they scraped against the ice. He’d tried to count minutes and perhaps guess at the distance they’d travelled. Tried to count the turns and feel the direction as his body leaned left and right.

But he’d soon given up. Only after the car had come to a stop had he realised how easy it was to lose time when all you could see was darkness, its depths unforgiving. 

Even before they’d first removed the hood from his face, Jae-ha had already known this wasn’t going to be something he could get out of with his charm or his fists. The men that looked down on him now were hardened mafia lackeys — their eyes hard around the edges, their smiles wolf-like. They were the type of men whom Jae-ha despised. But hatred would do him no good, not like this. He could wait for his opportunity, he still had his blades—

Surging panic gripped him as he felt the reassuring press of metal on the inside of his clothes missing. When had they taken them away from him? Why hadn’t he noticed?

There would be no answer.

As Jae-ha was led inside a room, a single chair in the middle and a drain at the very centre of the floor, surrounded by reddish stains, he realised there’d be no mercy either. The room itself was oddly clean, for the inside of a warehouse. He could tell, of course, he could: he’d spent the better part of his life scaling warehouses to recognise one. But that sterile cleanliness, it only told him that whatever happened between those four walls would never leave them.

A man was already waiting by the chair, where they pushed Jae-ha down. “So that’s him? That’s the infamous Jae-ha?”

Jae-ha forced himself to smile. “Glad to know my impeccable reputation precedes me.”

“Oh, it does,” another man said, crouching down to fist his hand into Jae-ha’s hair. “Gobi can’t wait to see you.”

“He can’t do anything to me,” Jae-ha said that first time. “It’s all been done before.”

But he should have already known, that those words would come at his own expense. Since then, his world had become pain. It should have been simple, as far as agony went. Instead, it was a thousand shades of ache — sharp and dull, piercing, twisting — that bloomed behind his eyelids. They’d punched him bloody and chained his wrists and feet down when he’d tried to resist. They had taken away his freedom once more and it had become dark and cold, and scary. The only sounds had been the cling of metal as the chains dragged across the floor, the hitch of his ragged breathing, and the animosity behind their laughter.

Every now and again, they’d leave, give him false hope perhaps, but they always returned. Like heathens lured in by the scent of blood and the promise of meat.

Jae-ha hated how he sat crouched at their feet and they loomed over him, looking down at him. It was all coming down now. The walls he’d built could no longer hold. The first crack had been that day many months ago as the knife had twisted into his gut — when Garou had emerged in nightmares. Now, every burn of the ropes, every fist breaking flesh apart, every hint of laughter, it was like a hammer being swung at his defences.

The third time they’d come, he had once again tried to explain to them that they couldn’t do anything to him, but they had proven they could.

Garou had been sitting on the ground by Jae-ha’s blood, observing. “Why must you struggle? It would be easier if you didn’t.”

“You’re not real,” Jae-ha had muttered and the guy with the brass knuckles had struck him harder.

“It’s not like that time when you ran away from me, you know. You won’t be able to run.” Garou’s pupils had been like a snake’s, just open slits. “No one’s gonna come save you either, love. Just beg and it’d end quicker.”

Jae-ha had tried to smile but it had hurt too much to move even the tiniest of muscles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When they’d left, he’d thought the worst had passed. It could have been days but here, what he thought to be days could easily be only hours. Time would flow differently now, every second drawn out like an ache. And if sleep befell him, it was bliss and an embrace. If his dreams carried him to an angel’s side, he dared not let himself wake but he knew that he was only stealing time.

When he’d awoken, he’d thought he could take anything. He had been wrong.

“You’re finally up,” the Garou that only he could see said. “You better start paying attention because this isn’t looking good for you.”

Garou had always haunted and tormented him but he’d never warned him before. Jae-ha’s tired mind immediately sharpened with focus. The danger was not apparent immediately, though he knew to expect it. For most, fear was just as dangerous as that which instilled it, and in that assumption lay their mistake. But Jae-ha hadn’t learned fear like the ordinary person knew it. He welcomed it. He listened closely for its presence, in anticipation for its shivers across his skin.

Because when fear arrived, something was about to happen. And he’d better be prepared for it — on his feet, with a knife in his hand.

Only that his demands of the world had been denied. The men had already disarmed him of his charm, chained his speed, and taken away his knives. They’d stripped away his armour and now he was truly, finally, without that which made him whole. Only fear was left in their wake, a herald of what was yet to come.

Jae-ha started with what he could see, not what he could not.

The same room, only cleaned of his blood. The same chair, only the chains around his wrists and ankles had been replaced with ropes. The men who’d tortured him were present, though now masked, and there was one more person in the room.

And in front of Jae-ha, there was a camera mounted on a tripod. He immediately tensed up, drawing a sharp intake which alerted the men in the room. 

“There he is at last, sleeping beauty!” said the man who’d not been there before. 

“Gobi,” Jae-ha rasped as the name came to him.

The memory of a town across the border from Xing, where monsters had been kings and people had been slaves, followed with it. The man himself looked both the same and yet changed somehow. His age showed more, the skin stretched thin around his skull and gaunt, and sickly pale. Jae-ha remembered his knife had left its mark on Gobi, though he’d hoped it fatal. Clearly, the only fatality would be Jae-ha himself.

“My boys have kept you busy, I see.” The smile on Gobi’s face was that of a fanged monster’s. “As promised, we won’t harm your crew. We keep our word here; we’re not animals.”

What they were was beyond animal, though no better word came to mind.

“I am sure you remember how we parted ways,” Gobi said but did not wait for an answer. Good, he’d not have gotten one. “I’ve been looking all over this damned country for you. Lost a lot of money because of your fiasco, you know. And now I think it’s time you pay it back. An eye for an eye, as they say, the good old jazz. But you’re a smart boy. You already knew all about that, didn’t you?”

“Don’t hear a saxophone,” Jae-ha said stubbornly. It was a cheap shot; it was all he had.

“But you’ve heard of the red-room movie industry, haven’t you?” Gobi asked. “Snuff movies are quite profitable these days, they say.”

Jae-ha paled. That there were monsters who paid to watch people be tortured and killed on screen, he had known. That he himself would become entertainment as people watched his skin get peeled back, his brain could not fathom. His heart drummed against his chest as though it, too, wanted to flee. And if it could rip itself free and leave only the shell behind, he’d let it. Anything, anything that wasn’t this.

The phantom of Garou suddenly laughed, a bitter sound. “And you always thought me a monster. Oh, my dear little Jae-ha, how much more you had to learn.” But Jae-ha ignored the phantom of the past; new demons were coming to haunt his present now. 

“One hour, with the boys,” said Gobi. “You’re going to want to struggle and by all means, please do. I hear it makes for a better viewing. But know that you won’t be going anywhere during that hour, understood?”

Jae-ha felt his jaw like stone as he tried to wrest the words from between his lips. “And if I die before the hour’s up?” he asked with effort.

“I don’t think you understand,” Gobi said. “You will live until you’ve made me the money that I lost because of you. My boys are to do nothing that would endanger your worth to us: no impaired senses, no blows to the joints or fingers. Everything else is fair game.”

Jae-ha felt his mind wrap around the words, try to piece together what he could. “Sounds like you need me for a job.”

“That comes after. I need you reasonable first. Experience shows that there is no better way to teach someone obedience than to show them what the punishment would feel like.”

Punishment. It seemed that Jae-ha had lived his whole life without receiving it, though he’d deserved it for many a thing. He’d run from it, he supposed now, but running away only got you so far, it would seem. It was a habit, a vice like any other. Live with it long enough and you learned to like its taste. In the end, you could only sharpen a blade so many times before you got cut. The hour to bleed had come.

“There’s nothing you can do to me,” Jae-ha said but his words lacked their usual bite. “Anything you can think of, I’ve taken worse.”

“There’s always worse things to be done.” Gobi waved to his men. “You’re not desperate now but you will be.”

One of the masked men moved towards Jae-ha then, the flash of something in his hand. But it was no blade. Worse, Jae-ha realised, it was a syringe.

He jerked back but the ropes kept him in place. “What is that?”

“Nadai,” Gobi said, the word a bolt of lightning. “It will keep you conscious. We can’t have you passing out before the hour’s up. People have to get their money’s worth.”

Fear had long since given way to terror now that the danger was clear and imminent. But as ice-cold fingers came to rest upon Jae-ha’s veins and the syringe hovered like a guillotine, terror turned to doom — simple, inevitable, a force unstoppable. 

“Be glad for the nadai,” the ghost of Garou told him. “You’ll hardly feel the pain and you’ll be delirious enough to detach from what’s happening. It’s a small mercy.”

Jae-ha felt the needle bite into his skin. He watched on, helpless and alone, as the translucent liquid drained into his body and spread its poison across his blood. In the space of a single breath, he knew the worst nightmare of them all had taken shape. And it was about to begin. He closed his eyes. Took a breath and, before the nadai could taint his mind and lay rot to his brain, he said his goodbyes to the life he’d led and the one he’d hoped to have.

As though in memory, Garou said, “I’ll stay with you until the nadai kicks in.”

The darkness was already swooping in, staking its claim. There was only one regret Jae-ha had — that boy. That beautiful boy with skin like snow and eyes like sapphires. He knew he had to make it out of here. He needed to tell him…

But what was there to say? That Kija had shown him a thousand ways how honourable a man could be, how strong and generous, and how he’d believed in Jae-ha, in all the good that Jae-ha had never once seen in himself. That he was prepared to earn his kindness and his touch, to shed his own scars so he would finally be good enough. That if Jae-ha had known the end would come like this and he’d still had an opportunity to flee, he would have fought his way back to him. That if he couldn’t walk, he’d have crawled to him, because no matter how broken he was, how twisted and crooked and wrong, he would have pulled himself together into some semblance of a man for him.

Perhaps Jae-ha had been just a bullet in a chamber until now, his whole life in wait for the moment when he’d finally be given aim. When he would have his direction and he’d pierce through the wind, unstoppable at last. To have found his aim now, only after it was too late, was perhaps the greatest laugh that life had ever shared at his expense.

_Is this what it’s like_, Jae-ha thought absently, _to have your life flash before your eyes?_

When he finally dared open his eyes, the light on the camera was already blinking red.

His vision had become unfocused. And yet, Jae-ha saw with striking clarity as one man became two, then three, and finally an army. He looked down to find his legs had turned to rubber, his feet melting into the floor. 

_It’s the nadai_, a voice told him. But in no time at all, that voice had been pulled under the current and left to drown. Jae-ha knew he should try and chase it, but the sense to fight was fleeing his body faster than he could react. Already, this new world felt just as real as the previous one had been. The name _nadai_ got buried and in the absence of the truth, that this was just a trip, Jae-ha suddenly became convinced that the world had been made of twisting shadows to begin with.

Jae-ha saw the first blow come but did not feel it. It was as though his skin warped around the punch, like waves receding. Another came and soon, fists became pulls and tugs, became crows pecking at his corpse.

_This is your life now_, a new voice said, this one loud, clear, and demanding. _Whatever comes your way, you will have to face it._

One of the blows tipped the chair to the side, him with it, and Jae-ha lay on the cold floor. He watched on as the ground warped like water, saw the concrete swallow and submerge him in its depths now. Breathing had failed him, having become so very difficult, and Jae-ha realised that he was drawing breaths — shaky, pained — through his mouth. He tried to take in all the air that he could, as if it too could soon be denied, and his chest and stomach heaved in rattled gasps. Something heavy was coming down his nose, like molten metal. Perhaps his brittle bones had shattered. 

As the men raised him back up on the chair, he saw their faces like swarms of black wasps, buzzing. He watched them pull out knives and slice away at his skin, but the metal bent around it, and bent, and bent. There was blood — his, turned black. And its splatters were just ravens zapping through the air in time to flee the storm.

He watched as the men set fire to his sleeve, the heat of the blaze quick to wrap around him like a living, breathing thing. The flames were dragons writhing around his wrists, desert dragons in their den. They could not hurt him, for he was a son of the skies just like them.

But as Jae-ha thought that he, too, could fly away with them, the inevitable happened. His heart stuttered.

It skipped a beat, two, and in between the moment of its final beat until it slammed back again, it was like a breath of fresh air. There was no pain, no fear. Quite like the rides at carnivals, the ones that climbed high up above the ground and dropped down, his insides churning — this was the same. This was that exact moment when the ride went up as high as it could go and all he could do there, in this linger of a second before it dropped to the ground, was to breathe like he’d never taken a single breath before.

Jae-ha lingered there, for a moment, not in anticipation but in peace. In one second, there was silence. And in the next, his world dropped.

His heart slammed into his ribcage with renewed vigour and a rasp. It was a physical thing, this rasp. It felt like a rusty spring that was worn but wound taut, one that could snap just as easily as a brittle twig. And when his heart fired up again, like the old engine of a car on its third restart — lucky thing — his first breath was painful. There was blood in his mouth, perhaps even down his lungs.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the room, darkness was spreading behind the men. Jae-ha’s mind was blank and he was sinking, slowly sucked into the black hole that was eating through the room. He would fall, he knew. He would be eaten alive. Just like that, he’d slip away, never to return. A part of him, some fragment still left sane, told him that if he were to lose himself there, he’d never wake up.

The edges of the black abyss were now inches away. Forward they came, crawling. And once they touched the skin on his arm, then the pain began.

It was like burning alive. It was pain like he’d never felt before. He was in the darkness of the abyss and there was no going back. Soon after, the shouts began. Were those his screams, perhaps? Had he gone so far under that he couldn’t even fathom what was happening anymore?

Then, from the centre of the abyss, there was a burst of motion and flashes of exploding light.

But Jae-ha was too tired to open his half-lidded eyes. He may as well have been dead. He was not sure of anything anymore, not of himself, not of what was real and what wasn’t, not sure if the pain was physical or a figment of another nightmare.

Hands were shaking him now but he only wanted them to stop.

Had he not broken already? Had they not had enough? He couldn’t take any more pain. He knew his body’s limits, knew that he had no more left to give. 

“Jae-ha,” a voice said, calling him to the surface.

He would never mistake that voice, even if he were to forget himself. Perhaps his time had come, after all, and all that he was hearing was a memory, or perhaps one final dream before the final breath of goodbye. But he did not mind. In fact, he’d have given his last bit of sane mind just to hear that voice, just to catch a glimpse of that face.

With eyes half-lidded, barely even open, Jae-ha squinted against the light. As if through fog, he saw Kija’s silhouette crouched in front of him. It must be a dream, then, and yet, he could not even see him as he’d liked. If this was the last thing he were to see before the end, he should have at least been able to see him clearly. Or had his memory failed him too?

This would have to be enough, a final wish granted to a dying man — he’d be seeing his boy one last time.

Kija still looked every bit the angel he’d seen in his cell that day so many months ago. The light hovered like a halo behind him, cast the edges of his face and hair in molten silver. Jae-ha had always loved the blue of his eyes, vibrant like gemstone and bright like crystal. Right now, it guided him to a place he could only feel like home.

But even though an angel had once believed in him, Jae-ha knew that he himself would be going straight to hell. It was to be expected — of a thief and a killer.

“Check his vitals,” a voice said.

Fingers on his pulse.

“Someone get the medics here ASAP,” another said.

Prayers on his mind. Blood on his lips. And only one word, one name, hovering on his very breath: _Kija, Kija, Kija..._

“Jae-ha,” the angel cried for him again but he could not speak. “Hak, I don’t know if he—I don’t know if—”

“Keep pressure on that wound. If there’s a pulse, there’s hope.”

But was there a future beyond this second and the next?

Explosions were rattling the walls of his ribcage now, the beat of his heart impossibly loud. He felt his pulse like shrapnel wedged in his throat, every inhale tearing it apart at the seams. Mind was going blank. Thoughts were disappearing, sentences abandoned. Here for a second, gone the next. Just words caught in a spiral — tangled, snared, eaten, lost.

All around him, the world was sirens — a neverending scream tinted in blue and red, and white. There was beeping, a mechanical heartbeat which was not his own. Jae-ha did not yet know if this was a dream or a nightmare. Maybe both, or neither?

“Kija,” he willed himself to speak. _Angel, where are you? Come to me in white, come to me in dream. Angel, please._

His voice was barely a whisper, rough like jarred rocks. He felt his heart slam forth with effort, heard the machines whirr, their own beat spike in step with his own. But still, his whisper must have been heard, it must have been enough.

Because Kija‘s voice came next. “I’m here,” he said. “Jae-ha, stay with me.”

Jae-ha wished he had the voice to tell him that there wasn’t a single place he’d rather be besides the home by Kija’s side. He wished he could promise that he’d stay, but it was not voice which he lacked this time. It was conviction. He’d played against fate and staked his life many a time but he’d always won. This time, Jae-ha was not sure. It was a fine line, that between life and death — the autumn leaf clung to its branch only so long that no strong winds came to break it free. The worst, that last gust of wind heralding the end, may have passed but it may also be yet to come.

“Are you real?” Jae-ha asked while he still had his chance. In the past, the ghost of Garou had always told the truth, said he wasn’t.

“Yes,” Kija said, voice drowning in and out against the wail of the sirens. 

Jae-ha could not move, could not even feel his body, but apparently, he’d tried. Steady arms came upon him. Oh, how he’d wanted those strong hands to touch him but like this?

He wished he could have had something to say, something witty, just another of his jokes. He wanted to hear Kija’s laugh as his mind failed to conjure the memory of it. People always said that a lover’s laugh could ring like bells, its notes high atop the wings of birds. Jae-ha wanted to know, wanted to hear it, because Kija’s could not possibly sound like anything of this earth. 

But no words came to him. Only the same question, suddenly more pressing than before, and so Jae-ha asked, again: “Are you real?”

Why his breath seemed to hang at the tip of his lips, only in wait of an answer, he himself did not understand.

“Yes,” Kija said once more. “They can’t do anything to you. Not as long as I’m here.”

A sudden spark of memory flashed across his mind like a shooting star. Absently, as though in a different life, a different past, Jae-ha remembered hearing Kija say those words to him. Once, when he’d been deep in the delirium of a past wound. He’d thought it a fever dream then, but he realised now that it must have been a memory.

Jae-ha, too, had made a lot of promises, hadn’t he? Given Kija hopes, once real now turned false? That day, in the bar, he’d been about to promise him that he’d be his forever. Had he not already decided it? Only now did he realise that forever would be so short, so very short and not nearly enough. Jae-ha hoped the wings of love would be enough to keep him bound as the storm raged around him, waiting to claim him. The memories of shared kisses felt so real, he could almost lay his lips upon the gentle warmth that still lingered on.

But the buzz of the nadai was wearing off and sleep was calling Jae-ha to its depths. And if he could ask one thing of Kija, it would be to wrap him up in his goodbyes, for Jae-ha was about to take flight. 

“Stay,” he panted, the words like a memory. Tears were running down his face but he could not be sure whose they were, his or Kija’s. “Stay until the end.”

He felt warmth, this time real and not a ghost of the past, as Kija’s hand found his and their fingers wove together as one. Jae-ha could no longer tell where his body ended and Kija’s began.

“Now and after,” the angel said. “After you wake up, and after we’ve lived the rest of our lives together, and always. I’ll always stay with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I posting at 2AM? Yes I am. Why? Because I'm beyond done with this chapter and it is done with me. I want to banish it from my memory forevermore. Before you come at me with your pitchforks, please know that I did not enjoy hurting poor Jae-ha like this (T_T)
> 
> There's also been a slight change of schedule: I'll be uploading Ch 21 this Friday, then next week, Ch 22 on Monday and the final Ch 23 on Friday! Right, so next time, Kija will be left to deal with the aftermath of the nadai incident which may not be pretty, as we already know from the manga. Send Jae-ha healing thoughts! See you all on Friday! :)
> 
> (Also, the JaeKi tag be looking rather barren at the moment so I've written a new JaeKi fic: a short 20K Historical AU that I'll be posting this Wednesday, hoozah! It's gonna be romance-heavy, very sexual-tension-y, and not angsty at all, I promise. So if anyone wants to check that out, the name's gonna be "Thief for Hire")


	21. In Sickness and in Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome, dear Reader, to part 2 of why I should burn in hell, this time certainly :)
> 
> (Trigger Warning: Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal)

—Kija—

The corridor outside of the emergency room was quiet. Not the way a silent night was, peaceful and divine, but the way space must be for the lone astronaut who no longer had a home. Life, now ceased, and time without a beat. The air gone and in its wake, a single voiceless scream. 

On the other side of the double-doors above which flashed the ominous words “Operation In Progress”, could be life or death. On this one, there was only the long wait before either had prevailed.

Kija sat in the uncomfortable seats, his reddened eyes having turned his irises to sunset blue. It must have been hours already, but in the den of the procedural waiting room, time slowed down and even gravity wasn’t enough to hold Kija’s knees from buckling. He had his forehead resting in his palms, Yona’s arms in a hug around his shoulders even though her muscles must have long since begun to ache and throb. Hak sat on his other side and while he’d never been one to show emotion like the rest, his knee was pressing against Kija’s as if to stop it from collapsing against the weight of Kija’s elbow.

In his life, Kija had known fear in many forms. He’d known it every time his father had come home from work and Kija had tried to hide out of sight. He’d known it every time the team had gone on a mission and he’d hoped the bulletproof vests would hold. Known it in prison, when he’d seen the blade first sink into Jae-ha’s side. When he’d been in northern Kai, thinking that perhaps he’d never get to leave.

But the fear in the waiting room was a very different kind of beast. It was not a fast spark that ran from head to toe, nor the sinking of your stomach.

It was the drawn-out terror when you awoke at night and found yourself gripped in paralysis, crippled as the cosmic horrors of the world watched on. It was helplessness like none he’d known before.

Kija dared not close his eyes. Because every time he did, the same image haunted him. 

Seeing it once had shattered his heart into a million fragments. He could not bear seeing it again. Like Jae-ha’s blood on that concrete floor, it had been as though his own had poured there to mix with it. And when he’d seen the bruises, it was like he’d felt every punch, laid suddenly and in succession, to his very skin.

Sat there, in wait for a doctor to come out, Kija felt his heart torn, as though it too needed stitches. Not one, but a million, just to mend what one sight had done to it forever. The longer he waited, the more he seemed to think that the doctor would come out any moment now — would, should, did not, would not. And the doctor didn’t, and didn’t, and didn’t. For the longest time, the only sound was that of the chorus of the agents’ breathing. Sometimes, Kija felt that he could not hear himself join it.

But even when the doctor had finally come out, Kija feeling himself some ghost in a shell as he’d willed himself to his feet, the world hadn’t resumed back to normal.

“He is stable, for now,” the surgeon had said. “The wounds he sustained were not critical and no vital organs were injured. However, the real danger remains the nadai. When a dose that high is injected and the body loses most of its blood, a very particular type of overdose can occur and put risk to the heart and brain. We’ve managed to negate those risks with blood transfusions but extensive recovery is needed.”

“When can we see him?” Yona had asked on Kija’s behalf.

“Not now,” the doctor had replied. “Even after he does wake, it likely won’t be him that you’ll be seeing.”

Hak had frowned. “What does that mean?”

“There are things people were never meant to experience and nadai withdrawal is one of them.” The doctor’s expression had grown very bitter. “It takes away what makes you human and locks it far enough out of reach that many stop trying to get it back.” 

Reality had been an unreal feeling. As though it hadn’t been happening at all and Kija’d been just some ghost roaming the hallways of the hospital, having escaped the morgue.

“He’ll have to fight past the withdrawal but he will not want to at first. It will be the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.”

Breathing had been so very difficult. Kija’s lungs had refused to work as they should and all the air had hovered, pressurised, just above his heart. His whole body had been cold. He’d barely even felt his fingers from how strongly he’d been clenching his fists.

When Jae-ha’s physical health had been deemed satisfactory, he’d been transferred to a rehab clinic in Hiryuu. They’d had nadai experts and therapists explain to Kija what the future would look like. He’d heard words and been presented scenarios that he’d never wanted to hear or imagine. They’d carted him off from one room to another and another. They’d had him read reports by recovered nadai addicts and read books on recovery. And the things he’d read, the things he’d had to imagine, they had all seemed unthinkable. 

“Can you imagine trying to live without air?” one of the therapists had asked.

Kija had shaken his head.

“For his sake, you’ll have to. If you want to help him, you’ll have to imagine something worse,” they had said. “Because right now, trying to live without nadai is more difficult for him than trying to live without air.”

But all that they had said and he had read could not have prepared him for the reality that was seeing Jae-ha in the middle of an episode. The first one had left Kija bereft. The second had made him think his own death would be a mercy. He’d thought he could handle another because the first two had broken all that he had, but the third time had broken him further still.

At the peak of the withdrawal, it had taken both Kija and Hak trying to hold Jae-ha down as he’d trashed, delirious. And though those had been the worst days, Kija had learned to expect them. In a way, the times that he’d not expected had hurt far more.

The first time that Jae-ha had awoken without screaming, Kija had let himself believe that the worst had come to pass.

“How are you feeling?” he’d asked carefully.

“Good,” Jae-ha had said.

And though Hak and Kija had exchanged confused glances, though they’d suspected that hadn’t been true, they hadn’t known. They hadn’t known that the worst had been yet to come.

Jae-ha had looked around, then said, “I need…” and his voice had trailed off for Kija to fill the blanks.

“Water?” Kija had asked, already reaching for the glass by the bed. But as he’d turned back around and seen the expression on Jae-ha’s face, he’d blanched. “No!”

“Please,” Jae-ha had begged. “Love, listen to me. Just a drop, for the pain.”

He had closed his eyes. Felt his own hands shake. Trying to argue was pointless, the doctors had already told him. Stay calm, they’d said. But there had been anger and despair within him.

“Love, I’m in pain,” Jae-ha had continued to say. “Please, just this once and I won’t ask for more. I swear to you.”

How could Jae-ha not know? How could he ask for something that had nearly killed him? Could he not see what it had done to him?

“Are you punishing me for something I did?”

It had been one thing to sit in a waiting room and await your fate. But seeing the one person you’d do anything for wright in pain and demand the one thing you couldn’t give them, it had been an all-new kind of hell.

“Do you want to see me in pain?”

Kija had felt his heart clench, then rip itself straight out. He’d sought Hak’s gaze and found it firm, reassuring. “Go,” the agent had said. “Take a break. I’ll stay with him.”

As soon as Jae-ha had realised that Kija would not be persuaded, he’d gone off like a gun. He’d yelled, he’d trashed against Hak’s arms as the agent had tried to pin him down, he had said everything and anything until he’d run out of both pleas and threats. Kija had stepped out of the room and let the door fall shut behind him. But he hadn’t let himself leave, not until Jae-ha’s screams had turned to pained cries and then to numb silence, and the tear tracks down both of Kija’s cheeks had dried. Then and only then had he allowed himself to leave.

After that, he tried to convince himself that this was not Jae-ha. Not the one he’d felt his equal and pillar of support in prison. Not the one he’d spent six months in hope of seeing. Not the Jae-ha he had fallen in love with. But it was still the one he’d promised to stay forever with. And he would, even if it cost Kija pieces of his heart every time.

Once the last of the episodes had passed, all that was left was the Jae-ha that felt like a ghost more than a living person. He no longer fought for nadai, but Kija wasn’t sure if he fought for life either.

In his line of work, Kija had seen people break. He’d seen agents struggle to get to grips with their first kill. He’d seen how even the best had broken when they’d taken away a civilian’s life, an accident that would cost them their sanity. He’d seen enough to know Jae-ha was broken, but just not in the way he’d seen people break. He should have expected it, that Jae-ha would break in his own way. That he’d try to appear fine. And so Kija found himself tip-toeing around him as though even a breath too loud would cause something to shatter. 

Over those weeks, Kija had come to hate the word ‘broken’ because it implied that it could be fixed. You could not try and fix a person. You could only learn to love the pieces they had become until they put themselves together in a new semblance of a shape.

But that was becoming too difficult to do when all you could do was think about the perfect shape you’d loved before. Loved and lost.

Kija missed the Jae-ha that would make him blush one minute and then make him want to commit murder the next. Missed the man from that night at the edge of the tunnel and that stormy early morning in the cottage.

Today, Kija was nestled in one of the chairs in Jae-ha’s room. He was already so used to their discomfort, the way one armrest dug painfully into his back and he had to pull his legs up over the other as he sat sideways. Many weeks had already been spent like this — from hospital to clinic, waiting room to private, but the chairs were always the same brand of torture device. As if to chase him away, though Kija had nowhere else to be.

Jae-ha himself still had biofeedback this time of day, his room clean and devoid of anything that said it had an occupant, save for the pills on one table and a neat stack of therapy diaries and sheets on the other. The detective had never before imagined what a life occupied by Jae-ha’s presence would look like, but it was certainly not emptiness and pills. It was things scattered haphazardly, wall colours changing all the time, and impressionist art hung up in unmatching frames.

It was overwhelming and bold just like the person of Jae-ha, who was everything and more, too much but never enough. Who had been. Despite how much Jae-ha had changed since those early days when the nadai withdrawal had turned him into someone else, he was still not himself.

“You’re four hours early,” a voice said and Kija looked up from his page in the book he’d brought with him to see Jae-ha at the foot of the door.

The man had a faint smile on his face but it was so very forced that it almost looked to be sewn on. Kija looked away because he could not bear witness to it. He knew that smile was only there to deceive him and tell him everything was fine. Sometimes, he even wished to let himself believe it, but he could not.

“I’m needed at work tonight so I thought I’d stop by before,” Kija lied.

In truth, work had stopped being his priority the day that they had found Jae-ha and arrested Gobi and his men. But Kija felt himself suffocated by this. Tired of moments spent in silence, of holding his breath when Jae-ha as much as stepped into a room, of going back to a cold apartment and wishing he still had tears left to shed. He needed to sleep.

“My CBT starts in an hour,” Jae-ha said.

“I thought you had them in the mornings.”

“They changed it for today.”

“Then I’ll stay here until it’s time,” Kija replied. “Are you doing exposure today?”

Jae-ha shook his head. “We’re back on triggers.”

Meaning they were back to square one. Back to listing all the thoughts that poisoned his brain and made him think nadai was the solution to them all. Kija did not understand it, how addiction could break apart logic so profoundly and irreversibly, but did not doubt its severity.

“Right,” he mumbled.

And that was that — the extent to which their conversations ever went these days. Neither of them spoke again for the hour. It should have been sad, should have been depressing, but Kija could only feel glad that Jae-ha was talking at all.

The two sat on opposite ends of the room. Jae-ha was scribbling down whatever they’d advised him to write in the notebooks, while Kija sat quietly, reading another book on addiction and recovery that he’d disguised by switching the dust jacket with that of some detective novel. The silence wasn’t easy but it wasn’t tense. Just unusual, considering Jae-ha had never handled silences longer than a minute before. But that was all before, before, before...

The clock on the wall said there were still ten minutes until the start of the session when Jae-ha stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

It was one of those phrases they’d taught him to say. That there would be a tomorrow and he just had to believe in it to survive today. That if he had plans for the next day, he might make it through this one.

Kija offered his best smile. It broke him a little every time. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Don’t get shot,” Jae-ha clapped back and it was the closest thing to a joke that he’d said so far. 

For a few minutes, Kija stayed behind and simply looked out towards the empty spot that Jae-ha’d left behind, the place physical but the feeling, that Kija might never get to hold and touch Jae-ha like he had before, an all-new kind of void that defied even the laws of physics themselves.

When a shadow darted past the door, Kija assumed Yona had probably gotten wind that he’d checked in early today. She visited often, for Kija’s sake alone, and it was the type of kindness that he knew he’d never be able to repay but hoped that someday, when this was all behind them, he would. A part of him didn’t even want to face her but another yearned for someone to tell him that the world was still spinning on its axis, even if his sense of it had grown cold and still. 

But when Kija stepped out of the room, he found Hak sitting in the waiting chairs instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but Hak was probably the last person Kija wanted to be seeing him like this.

“Thought it was Yona,” he said and tried not to sound disappointed.

“She was on her way here after hearing you’d gone in early. I told her I’ll join you instead.”

“Why did you?” Kija asked in a rough voice.

The agent looked at him with his own version of pity — leniency. “Because she needs rest,” he replied, “and you need company.”

Kija felt himself undeserving of it, he felt himself having grown bitter and tired. These days, he always lacked the right words and sometimes, he even lacked words altogether. His thoughts were such a tangled mess that he feared, if he pulled on a single thread too tightly, they’d all come apart to bury him in an avalanche of hopelessness and despair.

“Sorry,” he said quietly and sat down in the chair next to Hak, who handed him a sandwich.

For a while, neither of them said anything. There were a lot of silences in Kija’s everyday now. They didn’t bother him nearly as much as they unnerved others, but Hak had never been talkative to begin with. Not when they’d been roommates in the Academy, not even after they’d joined the Bureau together.

Absently, he wondered whether Hak was trying to think of anything to say and if Kija should bother sparing him the discomfort. He’d just about made up his mind when the agent finally spoke.

“Remember when my mission with Chief Il went wrong?” Hak asked, the question completely unexpected.

Kija felt his eyes widen in surprise. For the last few years since it happened, no one had heard Hak talk of the incident and everyone refused to mention it in either his or Yona’s presence. The topic had become taboo, forbidden as though the very whisper of it could set off a bomb and cave them all in. But everyone remembered. How could they not? Chief Il who’d hated violence and guns but had still worked for the Bureau because he’d believed in a better world. And a better world could only come at the expense of the comfort that stopped people from letting the old one go. 

When Yona’s father had been killed in action and Hak hadn’t been able to save him, the peace within their division had shattered. The dreaded prospect, that theirs was a dangerous line of work and any of them could succumb to its perils, had suddenly become a fact. Of course, Kija remembered how Hak had beaten himself up over it. He would always remember, they all would.

Slowly, Kija nodded. He didn’t trust his words, nor did he trust that they wouldn’t break Hak’s conviction to speak.

“Yona took it hard but she was still strong enough to try and console me,” said the agent then. “But I didn’t want that, I didn’t deserve her kindness. Everyone would try to find something to say or do, everyone but you.”

The question that was already forming in Kija’s mind blazed: _Should I have?_

But Hak carried on, deaf to Kija’s inner thoughts. “You didn’t say anything, just offered to train with me. Every day, you came back asking and every day, we kept sparring for who knows how fucking long. We didn’t speak a word but it was the one thing that helped me believe in my place by Yona’s side again. And I don’t even know if I’ve ever told you that before.”

“You haven’t,” Kija said quietly, the words drawn out. He supposed he was still looking at the agent with wide eyes, but Hak’s gaze was cast forward, fixed at some spot in Jae-ha’s empty room.

“I know guilt when I see it and that guy’s full of it,” Hak said, the words haunted by his own demons. From a past he’d perhaps never quite forgotten. “When you feel the way he does right now, you feel undeserving of others’ words or kindness. Especially that of the one person you know you’ve hurt the most.”

Kija frowned. “But it’s not—”

“True?” Hak supplied. “No, of course, it’s not true for you but it’s true enough for him. It’s how you’d feel too, if you were in his shoes right now.” The agent shrugged, the movement jarring. “You’re his guilt but you’re also pretty much all that he’s got left to remind him of who he was.”

The boy blinked. Deep down, he knew there was nobody else that could help Jae-ha because right now, all Jae-ha really had was him. Deep down, he knew it was true. But Kija suddenly found the thought scary, overwhelming. 

“I don’t know how to help him,” he replied.

“You don’t but he doesn’t either. Life takes two people because when the burden becomes too much for one of them to carry, the other has to balance. Whatever this is won’t last forever,” Hak said and finally turned to look at him, “but Kija, it won’t go away if you’re not there to face it head-on.”

Kija felt his temper rise. “Are you saying I’ve been avoiding it?”

“I’m saying that you’re the only one I know who’s never been afraid to do things their own way and who’s stubborn enough to keep trying until it works. If there’s one person who can figure out what he needs and give it to him, it’s you.”

“I’ve already tried, Hak. I’ve been trying and I just don’t know how long I can take _this_,” Kija said and motioned towards nothing, which he hoped to be interpreted as ‘everything’.

“You’ll have to take it for as long as he will,” said Hak, “and then you’ll have to keep taking it after that too.”

Kija supposed he should have found the prospect daunting. But he’d already seen so much. “I just wish I could take back time.”

“Don’t we all.” There were a few beats of silence before Hak spoke again. “You never told him about the correction facility in northern Kai, did you?”

The boy frowned. “No, why?”

“Because you still don’t see what’s happening here,” Hak said. “You survived two months of any agent’s worst nightmare for him. And right now, he’s fighting his worst nightmare for you. You two might be idiots, and I stand by that, but together you might just make it out alive.”

Would they? Everything that had ever happened to them, it had been designed to ruin them. They’d started out in prison, as enemies. They’d faced Kum-Ji’s wrath and been caught in a prison riot’s bloodshed. They’d fled prison through a tunnel. They’d suffered half a year of waiting.

But they had survived everything that had come before, even when the odds had been stacked all the way against them. Perhaps they would survive this too. He still didn’t know what he had to do but he’d try. Tomorrow, he’d try harder. The day after, he’d try again. And again, for as long as he had to.

Kija hadn’t realised when Hak had asked whether they should go, hadn’t realised when he’d given him an answer. But the lights in the elevator flickered overhead now that they descended towards the ground floor.

As the two agents filed through the lobby, Kija felt himself bump into someone who’d taken a sharp turn by the reception desk.

“Pardon,” he mumbled in the direction of the person’s worn Timberlands and raised his eyes too late, the stranger already moving away. Kija really needed to get a grip on his life, starting now.

The sun was beginning to set as the agents exited the clinic and began walking through the car park.

“You sure you don’t want a lift?” Hak asked.

But just as Kija was about to speak, something in the distance caught his eye. On the other side of the parking lot, Kija could just make out Jae-ha’s CBT specialist climbing into his car. The time was already fifteen past the hour for the appointment. The appointment which was always scheduled for the mornings but had, for whatever reason, been moved for the afternoon.

Kija, the detective. As if. He’d been so focused on not accidentally pushing one of Jae-ha’s buttons that he’d stopped questioning his words. That had been his first mistake.

“Earth to Kija.” Hak was looking at him expectantly. 

“No, you go on,” Kija replied and turned on his heel. “I think I forgot something.”

“Should I wait?”

“No!” he yelled back.

And as Kija walked towards the clinic, he saw the doors open. Saw as a man walked outside. Saw the green hair, albeit in a ponytail and pulled through the hole at the back of a baseball cap. Saw him in civilian clothing that was clearly not his and worn Timberlands.

_Jae-ha_, thought Kija as he followed far behind, _what are you up to now?_

Kija’s mind whirled to provide a checklist of what he could deduct. Jae-ha had lied to him about his appointment, a guarantee that he would have time without Kija’s supervision. He had obviously stolen someone’s clothing to slip by reception and go outside. He’d allowed enough time for Kija to leave the premises, but he’d clearly not expected that Kija’s conversation with Hak would keep him this late. Jae-ha had been about to leave, through the main exit at reception, when the elevator doors had opened and he’d frozen, causing Kija to bump into him. 

All this trouble to get out of the clinic and Kija needed to know why. Only one explanation sparked to mind, a single name, terrifying.

_Nadai_.

Kija picked up his pace, shivers all over. No. Surely, it could not be. Surely, Jae-ha would know better by now. Surely, he’d know that if he were to take it again, it would destroy not only Jae-ha himself but Kija with him. 

He was doing better, wasn’t he? The episodes had stopped. The triggers had been under control, the cravings too. “He’s showing promising results,” the doctors had said. But even so, Kija had read, he’d seen that it was the kind of thing that could come suddenly, without a sign, a symptom, or a trace — a rogue wave on a calm day, powerful enough to capsize even the strongest of ships.

Kija had read, of course, but he’d not believed. Could not, still.

He sighed now as he followed Jae-ha out of the clinic grounds and through the busy streets of downtown Hiryuu. He trailed behind, close enough not to lose him but far enough apart that he’d allow himself distance so his presence would not be discovered.

Hiryuu Central Station loomed in front of him now and Kija frowned as he followed Jae-ha inside. Mixed in the crowd of people, he watched Jae-ha buy a ticket, only following suit after Jae-ha had passed and begun walking further down the station. Then, he waited. And waited, as the late-January winds swept at his coat and trains passed, one after another. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jae-ha extricated himself from where he was leaning against one of the station’s many pillars towards the oncoming train.

Kija glanced at the name of the final destination of the train, but it did not mean anything to him. Did it, to Jae-ha?

He boarded the next carriage down in fear of his cover’s integrity but made sure to pick a place with a clear view of where Jae-ha was sitting. As the train rattled on its tracks, Kija felt his despair growing. The Jae-ha he had known had always been a mysterious figure but this one was unpredictable and he’d gone to greater lengths today than he had any of the weeks prior. Kija didn’t know where he was headed, he didn’t even have a guess to offer, and he realised with great bitterness that he hardly knew this Jae-ha, barely even the one before.

The train made a stop every five or so minutes, city after city, until after about forty minutes, it slowed down and Jae-ha stood up.

Kija, who had been slouched by a window seat, looking around solemnly, snapped to attention. He quickly glanced up at the name of the town they’d arrived at, and frowned. He’d never heard of it before. On edge, he waited to exit the train just before the doors signalled closing and followed. It was already dusk now, dark streaks across a purple sky, and he blended seamlessly with the other people who’d disembarked along with him. Lights blinked not too far away, where the town was, but Jae-ha did not go towards it. He took an ambling path between frozen trees, Kija behind him.

They walked for what must have been a quarter of an hour before Kija passed a sign that offered him some piece of knowledge as to where Jae-ha was headed. It read that this was a cemetery.

The detective frowned and slowed his pace until he’d found a spot where the trees would offer him some semblance of concealment. Breath held in his lungs, he watched on as Jae-ha walked past rows of tombstones and finally stopped at one. With the way Jae-ha had now turned to crouch at the ground, he was facing the direction where Kija stood, hidden half by branches, half by shadows. He wanted to move but couldn’t — he’d be discovered.

Or so he had thought until Jae-ha had cleared his throat and said, “If I told you I know you’re there, would you finally come out, Kija?”

Kija froze, then frowned. He did not, however, leave his hiding spot. “For how long have you known?”

“Since you got on the train,” said Jae-ha. “You may be a good detective but you’re not a very good spy.”

“If you’d told me earlier, I wouldn’t have had to try and be one.”

“I didn’t want to tell you earlier,” the late-January wind carried Jae-ha’s quip back to Kija.

The detective stepped out from his hiding spot. Slowly, he walked across the snow, leaving fresh trails behind. When he came by the other man’s side, he remained standing. Jae-ha’s face was as unreadable as ever, so Kija turned to face the tombstone for answers. The dead may tell no tales, but they didn’t seem nearly as distant as Jae-ha did at that very moment.

On the tombstone, the name ‘Garou’ was written. Kija did not know who that was, had never even heard the name before, but he found himself torn between asking and holding back out of fear for how Jae-ha would react.

“I know you want to ask,” the older boy said, as though reading his mind.

“Can I?”

Jae-ha made a tiny sound as he exhaled loudly through his mouth. “You’ll have to find out for yourself after you ask.”

Kija nodded, even though he knew Jae-ha could not see him from where he was crouched beside him and looking forward at the tombstone. “Who is Garou?”

“He used to be my foster parent for a while, one of many,” Jae-ha said. “I suppose I could say he taught me to be a thief, but by that I mean he left me no other choice.”

The detective frowned. “How did he die?”

“Not by my hand, if you’re wondering,” Jae-ha replied, nearly matching his thoughts again. “Owed too much money to the wrong people and had very little to pay with. I never thought he’d gotten the luxury of having his own grave, but here we are.”

The answers were far from enough but it was clear Jae-ha was already giving him more than he’d have given anybody else. Kija wasn’t even sure if he’d ever voiced the name of Garou to anyone.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Jae-ha sighed. “They told me to say goodbye.”

“What?”

“In one of the sessions, they told me to say goodbye to whatever I think has held me back,” Jae-ha explained. “I know they meant it figuratively but the only way to say goodbye to him is if I know he really is dead. I’ve never seen his tombstone with my own eyes before so I suppose I never did let him go.”

“Is it helping?” Kija asked. He knew it wasn’t an easy question, but he hoped Jae-ha would answer it anyway.

“Yes. No,” Jae-ha said truthfully. “Maybe?”

Kija placed his hand on Jae-ha’s shoulder. It was the first time he’d dared touch him like this for so long and he held his breath in hope that it would not be an unwanted gesture. His treacherous heart skipped its next beat when Jae-ha reached to place his own hand on top.

“He’s been dead for a few years now but I always had him guide me as a thief,” Jae-ha said then, even though Kija had not asked more of him. “And now that I’m no longer a thief, I’ve come to lay him to rest.”

With his free hand, Jae-ha reached into the stolen coat’s pocket and produced a long hunting knife with a serrated blade. He placed it on top of the tombstone and after a long minute of silence, stood up.

The knife itself looked like it could be any one of the knives from Jae-ha’s collection but considering they were all being held as evidence by the Bureau, Kija hadn’t an idea how Jae-ha had retrieved it. He did not ask, the answer suddenly unimportant.

“I’ve spoken to your superiors at the Bureau,” Jae-ha said, now looking at Kija with eyes reflecting the dark violet of the sky above.

Kija blinked. “When?” he asked. “What for?”

“Last week. About becoming a criminal consultant for your division,” he said and the words surprised Kija so profoundly that all thoughts seemed to have fled his mind. “They’ve agreed to let me in for a provisionary period beginning next month, you know.”

“They allowed it?”

“They certainly had their terms. I’m technically under arrest now, hence this.” Jae-ha lifted his jeans to reveal a metal band around his ankle, a tracking anklet with its red light flickering in the near-dark. “This town’s close to the edge of where I’m permitted to go for the next year.”

Kija’s thoughts were flicking in and out of focus, just like the red light on Jae-ha’s anklet. “I thought you said it’d be like wearing chains,” he mumbled.

“I thought it would be.”

“But?” asked Kija, feeling some semblance of courage return to him.

“But the way I see it, if that day I hadn’t thrown the watch back at you,” said Jae-ha, “you’d have found me sooner. Then maybe none of this would have ever happened.”

Kija fell silent. He could not deny a fact any better than he could argue for a lie. He was not that kind of man and if what Hak said was true, Jae-ha would not accept nor want his pity anyway.

“Maybe I want to be found from now on,” Jae-ha said. “Maybe I want to have this damned thing on. As long as you come find me, maybe I want to have it guide you.”

There was emotion bottled up in Kija’s chest, filling it up until it had engulfed his whole body. All the anger and despair, all the hope, everything. It was how Jae-ha had always made him feel. Everything and the infinite space that came after it too, for the word fell short already at the very start of how he felt. Everything and the space between the stars on the night sky, limitless.

“Are you certain you want to join the Bureau,” Kija needed to ask, to know, “after everything that’s happened?”

“There will always be someone like Kum-Ji, or Gobi, or whoever,” Jae-ha said. “Once you’ve met one of them, you can’t seem to stop recognising more of their breed wherever you go. So I’ve suffered at their hands. What about the people that still are? Who’s going to help them, Kija?”

The detective wasn’t sure if that was a question he was meant to answer.

“It’s people who know to spot a monster that can. It’s people like you and me, and your colleagues at the Bureau,” Jae-ha said. “I won’t accomplish anything on my own but if we’re together, I suppose the world better be prepared.”

Kija smiled, a real smile for the first time in so very long. “So which Jae-ha am I speaking to now?”

“Yours,” said Jae-ha. “The one you fell in love with, angel.”

At that moment, Kija felt that if Jae-ha were to touch him, he would die. And then another thought came crawling, came begging and pleading. That if Jae-ha didn't touch him, he’d die a thousand times more. Kija accepted his fate, he already had. He didn’t wait. As they fell in each other’s arms, their bodies pressed so very close, he could no longer feel the late-January frost. Kija was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start by saying "Woah!" We've reached 100K words and 100 kudos and I'm both speechless and humbled. Thank you all so much for making this fic one of the most rewarding experiences I could have asked for. I certainly wouldn't have made it this far into the story if it hadn't been for your continued support! <3
> 
> I don't know who was more difficult to write this chapter, Kija or Jae-ha. I've never been on Kija's side of events so he was more challenging but writing Jae-ha was just heartbreaking. I think in a lot of fics, where there is a hospital scene, it's almost always told through the POV of the character who's been hurt, they slip in and out of consciousness, have nightmares, then wake up to find character B by their bedside, and everything is now fine. But in this fic, I always try to do things differently and I don't pull my punches so I wanted to offer a new and arguably more realistic perspective of how things like this actually go. Also, Hak is the real MVP of this chapter and I can't be convinced otherwise
> 
> Side-note, Jae-ha calls Kija "love" when he's begging for nadai because it's what Garou used to call him so Jae-ha does not know how to use the word affectionately (T_T)
> 
> Anyways, stay tuned for Chapter 22 on Monday because the fluff is coming, it's nearly here!! As always, thank you for reading and have a lovely weekend! :)


	22. The Showstopper (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear Reader, and welcome to part 1 of Jae-ha and Kija's happy ending! These last chapters are quite long (about 8K each) so strap in! :)
> 
> Was I unironically listening to the James Bond theme while writing this? Yes. Should you listen to it while reading? Yes! ;)

—Jae-ha—

** _One Year Later_ **

There could certainly be no greater tragedy for as brazen a man as Jae-ha than a wasted opportunity to attend a gala. He could have been out there drinking expensive champagne, drawing curious looks in a tight suit. He could have been playing poker and skimming off the tables. In particular, Jae-ha could have been pulling hot, wet gasps from his boyfriend’s lips after he’d beckoned him inside one of the luxury bathrooms and flipped the door-lock. Especially that. Mostly just that.

Of course, there were worse things. But as Jae-ha sat counting minutes in this sardine-box of a van, nothing quite as regretful came to mind.

He wasn’t feeling particularly thrilled to be there, or to be babysitting two agents — one barely saying a single word and the other as if perpetually stuck at the very peak of a sugar rush. No, Jae-ha was especially not thrilled to be doing so when, on the other side of the street, a gala for only the wealthiest amongst the rich was happening and his boyfriend was being courted by its host.

But Jae-ha should have started from the very beginning, he supposed.

Their target tonight was Ying Kuel-bo — playboy, millionaire, fanatic. People took one look at socialites like him and thought they should appreciate the face and rather converse with the wall. And though some guests were indeed only in attendance of the gala to enjoy the lavish display of luxury, most invitees were interested in what was happening behind the scenes. Because from what Jae-ha could tell, Kuel-bo seemed no fool. In a sense, Jae-ha almost respected him for orchestrating this gala. Such a clever front for Kaitei’s largest annual black market auction was no small feat. While the Bureau usually had no taste for matters of illegally obtained antiquities, their involvement had become necessary as soon as rumours had started spreading of a coin with a microdot imprint of confidential military intel.

Jae-ha wasn’t entirely certain when the team had become the new James Bond. But he’d indeed be lying if he said he didn’t wish he could be living out the 007 fantasy as it was meant to be enjoyed.

One week ago, agent Yoon had managed to secure a place as front of house when all other candidates had suddenly phoned in to denounce their interest in the position, courtesy of Soo-Won and Zeno. The agent now welcomed guests and took invites, all the while maintaining a steady flow of information on who was going in and out. Agents Hak and Yona had already gone in and agent Soo-Won was only just ascending the steps to the front door.

But Kuel-bo’s attention could be captured by none of them. His eyes would only be on one person tonight and that person was currently walking through the foyer. 

The coms clicked. “_In position_,” came in Kija’s quiet voice, no doubt the agent trying to act inconspicuous.

“_He watched you enter_,” Hak informed them.

Next to Jae-ha in the van, Zeno clapped his hands together, as if in prayer. “Let’s hope mister finds Hakuryuu’s scowl just as attractive as he did over text.”

Jae-ha rolled his eyes in exasperation, then sighed. He had his feet up on top of Zeno’s small desk, head tilted back just enough so that he could count the wires pinned to the roof of the van.

It wasn’t even supposed to be Kija, he reckoned.

Kuel-bo was known for his strings of girlfriends — he’d never been picky about them. But he seemed very particular about his men. Smart guy, Jae-ha had to admit. If you had a taste for something, you had to be particularly careful, lest it became your weakness. Kuel-bo knew that, and he’d known it well enough to start vetting out candidates to be his arm-candy for the gala weeks in advance.

Jae-ha supposed he should hate the bastard’s arrogance. But equally, he knew that if he were a millionaire playboy with a taste for illegal goods, expensive galas, and good-looking escorts, he’d be doing the same thing.

“_He’s not coming over_,” Kija said through the coms. “_Should I go talk to him?_”

“Absolutely not,” said Jae-ha. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but let him come to you. The less interested you play it, the more he’ll want you. Now go mingle with the guests.”

Jae-ha had never thought he’d be in a situation where he’d have to instruct his boyfriend how to seduce another man. Equally, he’d not expected that Kija’s fake identity would prove to be exactly what Kuel-bo looked for in a guy — intelligent, quick-witted, and handsome. Jae-ha would have liked to argue that he too was all of those things, but he could never deny that Kija, with or without a false identity, was all that and then everything else.

“_We’ve got a problem_,” Yoon said over the coms. Already? It was much too early into the night for any problems. “_A certain Guen just checked in._”

Jae-ha blinked and dropped his feet to the floor of the van with a dramatic _thud_. As he squished past agent Shin-ah to peer through the van’s tinted window, Jae-ha looked on towards the entrance of Kuel-bo’s manner. Guests were pulling up the driveway in their Veyrons and Venenos, wealthy bastards, and one white-haired man was just going in through the front doors.

“_Guen, as in one of the other men Kuel-bo’s been texting?_” Hak asked.

“_I thought Hakuryuu was the only one he invited_,” said Soo-Won, sounding perplexed. “_He was the only one on the list._”

“_They gave me a second list just now and Guen’s not the only one on it._”

Of course, that Kuel-bo had been talking to other men had been no secret. He certainly had a type, Jae-ha noted. Ashen hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Though if Kija resembled an angelic figure because of his features, this Guen person looked more like a brute than anything else.

“Seems to me that you’ve got yourself some competition,” Jae-ha spoke into his earpiece.

“_I can’t get his attention even without the competition_,” said Kija, the lilt in his voice telling of his rising panic. “_This isn’t going to work unless I do something._”

“Fine. Go to the bar and order an old-fashioned,” Jae-ha suggested. “One for yourself and one for Kuel-bo. The waiters will call him over.”

“_I don’t like an old-fashioned_,” Kija responded. “_And I certainly don’t like Ying Kuel-bo._”

“_You sure do tonight_,” replied Yoon. 

As Jae-ha continued gazing at the arriving guests, he felt temptation take hold of him in its fever-like grasp. He was supposed to be part of the special ops team this time around, expected to wait until after Kija had joined Kuel-bo inside the auction and confirmed a visual of the coin. But what would be the point of sitting around in this van if Kija didn’t gain entry into the auction in the first place? No, Jae-ha needed to handle Kija’s competition and to do that, he needed to be inside Kuel-bo’s mansion, one way or another. Of that much he was certain, having recognised two more men matching the description of Kuel-bo’s text-mates join the gala. If this was Kuel-bo’s favourite game, Jae-ha would just have to change the rules.

The beginnings of a plan were already starting to take shape in his mind while Jae-ha scanned the incoming guests. No, not this one. That one? No, too short. He vetted out the arriving guests one by one until he saw it, finally, his winning ticket. 

“I need the name of the guy that came in,” said Jae-ha. “The one just now, with the green hair.”

Yoon was silent for a moment as he checked the name again. “_Shuten_,” he said. “_Why?_”

Jae-ha simply smiled, stood up. “Cause he just rolled up in a custom-made Brioni that looks like it could be my size.”

“_Someone stop Ryokuryuu before he does something stupid_,” said Hak.

But Jae-ha had never been good with following orders down to every minute detail. He liked improvisation and one thing he opposed about the Bureau was having to offer explanations. They wasted too much damned time and required too much effort. So he said nothing of his motives, though the other agents already knew better than to ask that he provide them or to try and stop him.

Jae-ha removed the bulletproof vest and untucked his shirt from his trousers so its length could just about cover his gun. While his usual formal shirt and trousers combo wouldn’t get him inside a gala, it’d get him where he needed to go.

“Give me that for a second,” Jae-ha said, pointing to the box by Zeno’s side.

“My grape juice?” the agent asked, incredulous. He nevertheless reached out to pass it along, though the sheer distrust he did it with was near-amusing.

With the lunacy of what Jae-ha imagined a madman fighting an imaginary opponent must look like, he splashed the juice across the front of his shirt. The stain bloomed first like blood, then like wine as the purple colour settled in. Content, Jae-ha unbuttoned it all the way down and began fanning out where the sodden fabric now clung to his chest.

“I have many questions, mister,” said Zeno, “but the most important one is, why did you waste my juice?”

Jae-ha could argue that a juice-box couldn’t quite compare to a perfectly good shirt but to each their own, he supposed. “Send Hakuryuu the invoice, not me.”

On the other side of the coms, Kija scoffed.

As he patted down his hips and pockets, Jae-ha did a quick headcount of what he needed. Gun, check. Badge, check. Lockpicks — always good to have around, though only sometimes useful — check. Although this was not how he imagined going to his first gala, desperate times did in fact call for desperate measures.

“Right,” Jae-ha said as he dropped out of the van, “you kids better behave while I’m gone.”

Before he slung the doors back, he saw the two agents exchange concerned glances. Granted, Jae-ha was known within the Bureau for making rash decisions, always at the heat of the moment and with too high a risk to justify the reward. Equally though, he liked to argue that his technique always garnered good results. After all, the results justified the means and if he had to get himself inside that gala to teach his boyfriend a thing or two about gaining a millionaire playboy’s attention, he would just have to.

“_And now Ryokuryuu is on the move_,” Zeno sighed into the coms.

Jae-ha smirked as he crossed the empty streets leading up to Kuel-bo’s manor. It always felt nice, having your own nickname.

“_He’s what now?_” asked Hak, the intercom cracking with the near-palpable electricity of the warning in his sharp tone.

“Relax,” Jae-ha replied. “Stress contributes to hair-loss and you don’t seem like someone who’d rock a bald look.”

This up close, Kuel-bo’s mansion resembled a palace more than it did a house. Though it was only three stories high, it stretched wide and its gardens, twisting so far out of sight that they were becoming one with the night sky, must have filled out an entire acre. The winter skeletons of cherry trees and buttonwood hedges were spotted with silvery specks of snow and frost, near-magical against the white stone of the manor. Now, this was the kind of place that Jae-ha had imagined a secret agent would find themselves at, not small vans and grimy vantage points.

Jae-ha walked over to the front of the house, where the walls were lit by soft projector beams and a carpet — though not red, to Jae-ha’s dissatisfaction — was stewn to guide the guests inside. On one side, the valets stood in attention, and Jae-ha nodded towards them.

“Sir,” one of the valets said, his eyes already drifting to the reddish-purple stain on Jae-ha’s white shirt. “How may I help you?”

“Would you be a dear and have someone fetch my Aston for me?” Jae-ha asked sweetly, slipping the man a tip worth what he most certainly could not afford but assumed a man who owned an Aston Martin and a Brioni suit would consider spare change. “You see, one of the waiters spilled wine on me. Shit like that happens, I know. My fault, their fault, whatever. I’ve brought an extra suit with me but it’s in my car—”

“And your name?”

“Shuten,” said Jae-ha with a smile. The man nodded, then disappeared to pass the request to one of the other valets.

Now, Jae-ha was the kind of man who liked to gamble his luck. He didn’t pretend his intuition was without a fault, but past experience said it was usually right more often than not. As soon as he’d seen that guy walk out of his car in a blue, custom-made Brioni, he’d known to trust what his instincts told him.

Any man who owned a tailor-made Brioni would keep an extra suit in the back of his car. Hell, they didn’t even make Brionis without having a double as back-up; they always made twos. Jae-ha may not have had thousands to spend on fashion but that didn’t stop him from knowing the difference between an Armani and a Brioni. He was not blind. It was like telling a frozen pizza apart from one with truffles and gold — you didn’t have to have tried the latter to know it was superior.

Jae-ha was taking a chance here, of course, but what fun was there in life without a little risk? Just a little, just enough to give him that adrenaline rush that kept him on his feet, always.

As he waited for the Aston to be brought for him, Jae-ha listened to Kija’s conversation with Kuel-bo. Though the man had responded to Kija’s invitation, from the little snippets of conversation, their chat appeared less flirty than it seemed tense. Under normal circumstances, Jae-ha would have rejoiced but it wasn’t his comfort hanging at Kija’s words — it was the success of their entire mission.

The only way Kija’d be getting into that auction was one of two ways. One, if he completely won Kuel-bo’s attention, which he had already about failed if Jae-ha’s judgement was to be trusted. Or two, if there was nobody else to win Kuel-bo’s attention, which Jae-ha was about to make sure of. And if Jae-ha had to deal with Guen and every other potential candidate separately, he’d just have to.

A beautiful metallic-grey Aston Martin rolled up next to Jae-ha now, paint so fresh and slick that it reflected the light from the manor like stars across the night sky. For a second, Jae-ha felt tempted to ask for the keys and never return them. But he was a better man now, certainly no thief.

“Sir,” the valet said and Jae-ha slipped him a hefty tip for good measure.

Oh, how he wished he was rich enough to be able to do that on a daily basis. Not out of some altruism, of course. Simply to feed his own ego.

Jae-ha walked around to the back of the car, opened the trunk to reveal a garment bag. He unzipped it carefully and smiled as he saw the extra Brioni suit. Bingo. The risk had paid off and now Jae-ha had his ticket inside.

With the bag slung over one shoulder, he closed the trunk and waved the valet off. He had to admit, walking down that stretch of carpet-laid entrance to the mansion was exhilarating in all the best ways. Even the stain on his shirt wasn’t grounds for discomfort when everyone around him thought Jae-ha had simply been another wealthy victim of a clumsy waiter’s mistake.

“Mother hen,” he greeted Yoon at the front of the house. The agent’s angry grumble didn’t even fully reach his ears as Jae-ha raced up inside with the speed of a bottle cork.

The inside of the manor was made of the same clean, white, unadorned stone as the outside, giving it an otherworldly feel as though it had been chiseled out of a glacier. On the other end of the entry hallway, where the corridor widened to a vast circular ballroom, there was a mass of people, drinking, laughing, greeting each other. A kind of raucous party known only to the elite. Jae-ha, however, sought the first bathroom he could lay eyes on, just at the edge of the hallway. He slipped inside soundlessly, locking the door behind him.

He wasn’t even listening to Kija and Kuel-bo’s conversation anymore, not for a lack of interest but because he knew he needed to hurry and locate Kuel-bo’s other escort candidates. Preferably before Kuel-bo could move on to the next white-haired, blue-eyed victim.

His movements quick, Jae-ha slipped out of his clothes and into the very comfortable and considerably more expensive Brioni. If he had to be honest with himself, and he very rarely was, it was mostly vanity that had made him choose tonight. He could hardly blame himself or regret the choice, though, considering just how well the suit fit him. Ah, to be rich and dressed in luxury, even just for one night.

He discarded his old clothes into the bin, making sure his gun was tucked in his trousers and hidden by his suit jacket, and the badge was in his inner pocket. Quickly, he unlaced his ponytail and wrapped his hair in a bun. 

If only he’d known he’d be attending a gala… At least the trousers were long enough to cover his tracking anklet.

Jae-ha had just unlocked the bathroom door and moved to step outside when he felt himself collide with someone. He recognised the cologne, that musky scent all too familiar by now, before he could even catch a glimpse of those silver flames of hair.

Kija blinked at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving our mission,” Jae-ha said. “Why aren’t you with Kuel-bo?”

But Kija simply shook his head and, with both hands now on Jae-ha’s chest, pushed him backward. Jae-ha chuckled as his back pressed against the door and he found himself into the bathroom once again.

“I don’t know if I’ve made matters worse or better,” Kija began and flipped the lock. “He said to save him a dance but then he also didn’t seem too interested so I—”

And then Kija turned around to look at Jae-ha, in full. Jae-ha supposed he should have found it funny, the way the other man cut off mid-sentence, mid-breath even. But as Kija’s eyes did a full sweep of Jae-ha’s figure, leaving very little to the imagination when it came to deciphering what that look could possibly mean, Jae-ha found himself short of laughter.

He smirked. “I know I look like James Bond in this but your silence is unnerving, sweetheart.”

“Where did you get that suit?”

“Borrowed it,” he said. He liked that word, it made him feel like a good person.

“Meaning you’re going to return it?” Kija asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Not if you like it.”

“Then I hate it.”

Jae-ha chuckled. “You tell me that and then expect me not to exploit this sort of information? Angel, have you truly learned nothing this past year?”

“Maybe I want you to exploit it,” said Kija. Jae-ha could swear there was a very dangerous spark to his eye as he said it and it wasn’t just a reflection of the lights.

“Oh, reverse psychology — my favourite!” Jae-ha moved forward, leaned down. “Shame that you already gave yourself away when you checked me out like I was a piece of meat.”

There was a cough, in his ear, so loud that he almost thought it was coming from a person in the same room as them.

“_Misters, your coms are on and this is getting uncomfortable for the rest of us_,” Zeno said.

Jae-ha frowned but let the matter go. Though it was true that he knew no self-restraint, they were still in the middle of a mission and for all he knew, it was not going particularly well so far. Looking at Kija right now, he knew why. Of course, he looked gorgeous. He always did, with that alabaster hair, a faint flush across his pale skin, and eyes like gemstones. But he looked too neat, somehow too proper. And though Jae-ha hated to think of it that way, if Kija wanted to leave an impression on Kuel-bo, he’d have to look anything but proper.

“A dance, you say?” Jae-ha asked. “Then why are you here?”

“I needed a break.”

“You also need some advice because this—” Jae-ha gestured towards Kija’s person “—isn’t going to cut it.”

Kija frowned and if it had been Jae-ha whom he’d had to seduce, he’d have already won him over. But Kuel-bo was a millionaire playboy and Kija, as he was right now, was the farthest thing from a playmate.

“First, what’s with the tense replies and shy laughs? You have to appear confident, not act as if you’re asking for his permission to be there.” Kija nodded, though Jae-ha knew that when it came to matters such as these, he might as well be a fish out of water. “Second, you’re too stiff. You look like you’re walking into a fight, not enjoying yourself amongst good company.”

“Maybe because the company isn’t particularly good.”

Jae-ha smiled. He placed one hand between Kija’s shoulder blades and the other at the small of his back. At the touch, Kija’s back straightened almost immediately. His shoulders seemed to widen, his stance now having transformed him from an anonymous stranger to someone near-princely. There was an almost curious, confident tilt to his body now.

Good, as long as Kija remembered to keep his stance. And what were the chances of that happening?

“Third,” and as Jae-ha said this, he shook his head almost as if to himself, “you’re showing off too little skin.” He flipped the topmost buttons and loosened Kija’s tie, revelling in the sight of his pale, slender neck. “Your hair is too slick. I swear, there’s enough gel in it to keep the Tower of Pisa upright.”

“Yona said it was attractive,” Kija argued, a cute little frown to his lip.

Jae-ha lifted an eyebrow. “Yona isn’t a bisexual millionaire playboy.”

“Neither are you, for that matter.”

“Point taken,” Jae-ha said with some hint of laughter that he’d barely managed to contain. “But dating Hak has lowered her standards and you can’t deny that.”

“_Your coms are _still_ on, you know!_” Hak’s voice cracked in his ear. 

Jae-ha ignored him. He ran his fingers through Kija’s hair, still silky and smooth despite all that styling gel, and tugged at it until it looked just the right amount of dishevelled, just the right bit of improper. If anything, Jae-ha supposed it looked _inviting_. Every part of him wanted to thread his fingers through it, burned to tug it down and bring Kija’s chin up so he could taste his neck.

“Any other wisdom you wish to impart on me?” Kija asked, clearly in jest.

Though Jae-ha hadn’t had anything left to say, the challenge in Kija’s voice quickly made him change his mind. “Well, I have an idea,” he said, “but you’re not going to like it.”

“I hate it when you say that,” Kija replied but nothing in his tone indicated that he did.

“Really?” Jae-ha said suggestively. “Because past experience speaks for itself.”

“_Turn off the damned coms!_” Yoon hissed. “_I’m twenty seconds away from demanding to dance with Kuel-bo myself, I swear._”

Jae-ha sighed and tapped his earpiece once to switch it off. Kija did the same. Though they’d been getting called out constantly during nearly every mission, it only served to amuse Jae-ha and only mildly embarrass Kija. Better yet, Kija was quickly growing immune to it and Jae-ha supposed that he had been a bad influence in the best way he could have imagined.

“What’s your idea?” Kija asked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Though he seemed to do it as if to signal that he wanted none of Jae-ha’s bullshit, he had yet to realise just what that pose and the authoritative tilt to his head could do to Jae-ha. It nearly shattered his resolve to keep it professional, then and there.

“Well, there is a rather simple but effective way of grabbing Kuel-bo’s attention, you know.” Jae-ha smirked. “If you went out there naked—”

“You’re not being helpful.”

Jae-ha raised his hands in surrender but his expression was as cheeky as ever. “That’s how undercover missions work.”

“Undercover from what? My potential wrath?” Kija asked. “And no, that’s not how any of this works.”

“Not with that attitude it isn’t.”

“_Jae-ha_,” the detective mumbled with a degree of familiar exasperation. That was it, just his name, but it was usually quite effective. 

“_Kija_,” the former criminal teased, his tone mirroring that of his boyfriend’s. “Now go dance with another man because I’m never letting you do something like that again.”

The detective smiled, then leaned into Jae-ha’s chest, fingers tugging at the buttons of his suit playfully. “Believe me, I don’t want to be doing anything with anyone else.”

Jae-ha returned the smile. He placed a hand on Kija’s cheek, skin already burning at the touch, and gazed into his eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t argue with him.”

“Why would I argue with him?” asked Kija, a tilt of confusion to his eyebrows.

“Because you’re irresistible when you’re angry,” Jae-ha said simply and leaned down to lay a kiss just there, at the space between the boy’s brows, where the skin had wrinkled.

Kija blinked. “What?”

“Only I get to see that side of you, angel.”

The way Kija looked up at him then — lashes like the flutter of butterfly wings and his eyes the perfect kiss in blue — it was enough to tilt and capsize any ship, a true storm at sea. And the fact that Kija held that look only for Jae-ha, only for moments like this, it was everything Jae-ha had ever sought in his life. It was all the adrenaline and none of the risk, all of the thrill and none of the comedown. It gave him everything and asked only that he return it with the same heat. And oh, he did. He did like his whole body burned for it and his lungs were starved for air.

“I know that look,” Kija whispered as Jae-ha’s eyes spoke of what was going to happen next. He dipped his head down, about to capture Kija’s last breath as the detective mumbled, “We’re in the middle of a mission.”

“The mission can wait,” said Jae-ha, his voice as gentle as a purr.

Whatever protests Kija had on his breath Jae-ha caught in his lips. The taste of champagne lined the inside of Kija’s mouth, bittersweet and intoxicating. Jae-ha could have gotten drunk just on that taste alone. But what Jae-ha was after, the fix that he’d never managed to resist, was the warm spark that began at the place where their mouths came together and shot throughout his whole body. It was always like this, every time he captured Kija’s lips with his, and it would forever be just as exciting and uncontrollable as the very first time. Like wildfire, no matter how many times you put it out, all it needed was one spark to reignite and burn anew.

What Jae-ha was chasing was beyond skin, beyond touch. It was that feeling when he dipped his tongue inside Kija’s mouth and the other man groaned. It was that feeling when Kija made that obscene, wet sound at the back of his throat and like fireworks, heat bloomed across Jae-ha’s body. It started in his heart and raised up to his chest, his neck, his cheeks, and down past his belt.

Jae-ha smiled into the kiss, pulled back long enough to whisper, “Now all you’ll be thinking about on that dance floor is me,” and leaned forward again.

“All I ever think about is you,” Kija said before their lips met again, in a dance of their own. A dance that belonged only to them, to Kija and Jae-ha, forever.

The way it felt for Jae-ha to rest on Kija’s patient lips, on the prayer of his breath, it felt like holding on for dear life. Every time. Every single kiss. It felt like being whole. There was no part of Jae-ha that had not been broken, that had not healed wrong, and yet, there was no part of him that was not made stronger for having been broken. Being with Kija meant being saved, being held together. Each touch made him come undone him and each kiss was there to put him back, piece by piece.

Usually, when Jae-ha’s heart raced, it meant danger. It meant it was threatening to run away and he’d better follow. With Kija, Jae-ha’s heart was racing every second of every day, but there was no need to run. Nowhere to go. No place he’d rather be.

Someone pressed down on the door handle, found it locked. Knocked on the door.

“Occupied!” Jae-ha yelled back just as Kija said, “Just a minute!”

The detective and the former criminal looked at each other then. Jae-ha had to admit, he was always pleased to see just how flushed and out of breath he could make Kija look. It was one of the small pleasures of life. And right now, hair perhaps slightly too rowdy and cheeks red like wine, Kija looked much more desirable than any other man should ever have the right to see him. 

“It’s good to be fashionably late but let’s not keep the poor bastard waiting for too long,” Jae-ha said. “Or he might start getting ideas that he could have you for the night.”

Kija offered him a scowl that Jae-ha did not for a single minute believe to be honest, not when Kija was looking at him like he was about to pry the Brioni off Jae-ha’s body. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“When do I ever?” But the wink Jae-ha shot Kija’s way could not have proven his point even if he’d wanted it to.

“I want to hear those three little words, Jae-ha.”

“I love you.”

Kija sighed. “I love you too but try again.”

“Fine,” Jae-ha relented. “_I will behave_.”

Jae-ha flicked the lock open and held the door for Kija as the two agents filed out. And while Kija seemed to avoid any eye-contact with the guest who was waiting outside, Jae-ha was a very different breed of a man. He straightened his suit jacket, mostly for show, put on his most self-satisfied smile, and shot a knowing look to the already scandalised guest.

“You’re an ass,” Kija hissed.

“I like to accentuate my best features,” Jae-ha shot back.

One of these days, he was going to break Kija’s apparent resolve to put up with his bullshit and he’d either get told off or earn himself a slap across the face. Only time could tell, though Jae-ha suspected he might greatly enjoy the latter.

“Believe it or not, your ass is not your best feature.”

Jae-ha smirked. “Then what is, pray tell?”

“Your mouth when it’s closed.”

As the two entered the ballroom, they parted ways. Jae-ha wove past people to head towards the bar, where he ordered a drink and let himself casually rest an elbow on the bartop.

His gaze filtered between guests as he got a better look at the flow of the crowd. It was a trick he’d learned back from his time with Gi-Gan and the crew. There were patterns in the way people moved, how they seemed to cluster around power. Though they seemed to be drifting aimlessly, in reality, they were being drawn towards those with status greater than their own. Once his eye became used to finding those patterns, the movement of the crowd seemed utterly predictable, no flaw in his observations.

At the farther end of the room, Kuel-bo had already been talking to Guen, though Jae-ha noticed how his attention snapped to Kija as soon as the detective came into his view. Jae-ha’s strategy, for what it was worth, seemed to have worked splendidly because Kuel-bo had looked over only once, seen Kija, and smiled. It was a predatory smile and Jae-ha hated to see it directed towards his boyfriend. Kuel-bo said something, Kija laughed. The bastard leaned forward, extended his arm, and Kija hooked his own around it.

What a foul sight. Jae-ha looked away, back towards his drink. He took a violent swig. It wasn’t that he was jealous. Jealousy involved a lack of trust and his trust in Kija far transcended that of his belief in his own self. He could still taste Kija’s lips, feel his loyalty with every fibre of his body. But Jae-ha was a possessive man — he could not watch, not even if it were just for a mission.

At the very least, he supposed one good thing had come out of this whole ordeal: Jae-ha no longer had to deal with that Guen person or anyone else.

“Your com is still off.”

Jae-ha nearly jumped as Soo-Won sidled up to his left. Some spy Jae-ha made this evening. He hadn’t even noticed the agent approach.

The last thing Jae-ha needed right now was to turn on his intercom and listen to Kija’s conversation with Kuel-bo. In a way, leaving the damned earpiece switched off would have been a mercy. But he did anyway and as soon as it clicked back on, Jae-ha’s ears suddenly filled with voices, he realised that something was wrong.

“_We need to get closer_,” Yona was saying, a slight panic to her voice.

“_You_ need to stay there and flag Kuel-bo’s investors,” Soo-Won said, his voice echoing both next to Jae-ha and through the coms.

“What’s going on?” Jae-ha asked carefully, raising his drink to his lips in an attempt to act inconspicuous.

“_Because of your little bathroom fiasco, Hakuryuu’s coms are still off_,” Hak said, “_and we have no idea what’s happening._”

The only adequate response that seemed to come to mind was rather simple, but it spoke a great deal. “Fuck’s sake,” Jae-ha said, the sound chased by a sigh.

He quickly looked over to where Kija and Kuel-bo were now involved in a dance, their lips moving in conversation but no voices reaching the team through the coms. Even at a time like this, all Jae-ha could think about was that Kuel-bo’s hand was on the small of Kija’s back. Jae-ha wanted to gag but more so, he wanted to go there and twist that hand until he heard the man beg him for his mercy. He did neither, took another sharp swig, and left his place at the bar.

Jae-ha tried to position himself in Kija’s line of vision, far behind Kuel-bo, but Kija had always insisted on being professional in public and now — the one time Jae-ha actually intended to be professional — was, of course, the time when Kija would ignore him.

“_Any ideas?_” Hak asked.

But the song was already reaching its end, Kuel-bo now leading Kija upstairs, and Jae-ha had accomplished nothing. The situation was becoming even more problematic now.

Without Kija’s signal, the team might as well have had their hands tied behind their back. They couldn’t storm the auction without evidence that the coin was indeed for sale, or they’d be violating a dozen protocols, none of which Jae-ha cared about but which even he knew should not be broken. Equally terrifying was the other alternative, that Kija could try to reprimand Kuel-bo while expecting the agents would come to back him up against the guards upstairs.

“I’ll follow,” said Jae-ha into his com. There hadn’t been a single moment of doubt in his mind that he should try to intervene, perhaps bump into Kija and inform him quietly, or even make a fool of himself and cause a scene. He did not know yet, but he followed behind as Kuel-bo led Kija away.

At the foot of the stairwell, a guard held his hands for Jae-ha to stop. “Your pass?”

Jae-ha felt a shiver run up his spine. He feigned confidence but doubted it would do him much good at a time like this. Though he pretended to search his pockets, acted surprised when he found no such pass, the guard’s expression did not change.

“I must have lost it?” he said in his most convincing voice.

“My apologies, sir,” the guard replied. “I can’t let you through without a pass.”

Jae-ha offered a constrained smile. “Perhaps I left it in the car. I’ll go check.”

But the doom of this mission was slowly impending, tangles of nerves wrapping tightly in his gut. That he had to get upstairs, he already knew. But how to do so was currently an unsolvable dilemma, a riddle without an answer. After all, if they’d had another scenario as to how they could get upstairs, Kija wouldn’t have had to play Kuel-bo’s arm-candy in the first place.

Feeling himself cross the ballroom in a daze, Jae-ha sought out familiar faces in the masses of guests. He found Hak and Yona at the far corner of the room, where the candlelights were dim and fewer people had gathered. They had already spotted him, Yona’s expression just as panic-stricken as her voice had sounded and Hak’s about as murderous as ever.

“Well, now what?” Jae-ha asked as soon as he’d joined them. “Do we have a plan for this?”

Hak gave him a glare that could kill. “Were you even paying attention at the briefing?”

“My apologies, I was too busy trying to figure out if you were born with a stick up your ass or if someone shoved it up there,” said Jae-ha pointedly. “Do we have a plan?”

There was a beat of silence and it stretched long and thick. “We can still order the task ops in,” Yona said finally.

“_Not unless we want to breach the Bureau’s agreement with Kaitei,_” came in Soo-Won’s voice through the coms.

This was one of those situations, Jae-ha realised, where he’d have rather done things like a thief. No concerns for protocol, no ethical consideration. If he’d been a thief, he’d have easily solved this, caused a distraction, slipped past the guards—

But therein lay the solution, didn’t it? Was that not why Chief Mun-Dok valued Jae-ha’s input enough to trust a former criminal and allow him into their ranks? It was precisely because some situations called for a thief’s perspective. It was how the team had intercepted the bomb in Sei last month. It was how they’d figured out the guns were being shipped off to Xing two missions prior.

“Or,” Jae-ha said carefully, “you can cause a distraction and I can slip past the guards.”

“A distraction like what?” Hak asked, as skeptic as ever.

“Something big and loud enough to draw their attention,” said Jae-ha and turned to go. “In case of doubt, you can always shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Ryokuryuu,” Hak hissed after him. “Do you even know what you’re doing or are you winging it?”

Jae-ha smiled, spoke evenly into his earpiece: “Don’t worry, cowboy. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Now, this was the kind of situation in which Jae-ha could excel. Protocols be damned. Little good they did, only ever made everything more difficult than it should be. Jae-ha positioned himself close to the foot of the stairwell. Not too close to raise suspicion, of course, but close enough that he’d be able to leap into action as soon as the agents did their part. Which would happen, when exactly?

“You bastard,” Yona’s voice came from all the way across the room. There was a smack that rattled the intercom so Jae-ha could only assume she’d slapped Hak for good measure. “You lying, cheating bastard!”

Everyone’s attention now snapped towards the couple at the far end of the room. It was the kind of crowd, of course, to live and breathe scandal. They couldn’t have known who the two were but clearly, they seemed important enough if they were in attendance of this gala. Jae-ha could bet at least one person was wondering whether they weren’t overseeing an important scandal that would ring up the news first thing next morning.

“_What the hell is going on?!_” Yoon asked through the coms.

Close to Jae-ha, one of the guards mumbled something into his earpiece and began making his way over to the couple to investigate. With the corner of his eye, Jae-ha watched the other guard remain as he were, vigilant.

“You dare insult my cousin’s dignity like this?” came in Soo-Won’s voice next, like a well-planned play. “You damned man, I knew you weren’t good enough for her!”

“You stay the fuck out of this,” Hak yelled back.

The crowd held its breath now, everybody as one. Heads snapped from Hak to Soo-Won and back. It was like watching a tennis match, the audience’s attention following the ball as it switched courts. Jae-ha saw Soo-Won steal a quick glance at the guard who remained by the stairwell, saw the agent’s focus harden.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” Soo-Won warned.

The trombones playing softly in the background seemed louder suddenly, foretelling.

Hak cracked his knuckles. “Or what?”

In the span of a second, peace had broken. Hak and Soo-Won were at each other’s throats now, in what Jae-ha could have easily pinned as one of the most convincing fight scenes of all time. He’d have laughed, due to the sheer comedy of the situation. And as Hak brought the other agent to the ground and the two now rolled across the floor of the ballroom, guests began to yelp and step back to avoid being swept by the crazed men. Yona had taken matters into her own hands, using her clutch as a weapon. She swung the purse at the fallen agents, striking blindly — whether it be Soo-Won she flogged down or Hak, she did not seem to care as long as there was a hit.

“You’re both bastards!” she yelled as she continued to clobber and pummel the men mercilessly.

Jae-ha shook his head in disbelief. Some team they all made. Honestly, how the Bureau had even remained operational for so long was beyond his comprehension.

The second guard was already abandoning his post and there was simply no time for Jae-ha to watch the scene unfold in full. He’d have to watch the recordings later, but for now, he simply hurried up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He could hear the sounds of scuffle behind him, the guards and the three agents all yelling, but he didn’t turn around.

Upstairs, the corridors stretched long and lavish, yet all far too similar to one another. As though in a labyrinth, Jae-ha found himself trying different paths, different doors. Locked, locked, locked. From downstairs, the sounds of shouting had stopped and his intercom was oddly silent.

“A ceremonial dagger from the 15th century,” a voice said, coming from one of the rooms. “Property of Ying Kuel-bo.”

Jae-ha stopped, turned on his heel. There, as he rounded back and took another path, he found one door wide-open. Coming from it was the sound of a presenter announcing bids. Jae-ha smiled to himself. Though the auction had already started, it was the kind of event that didn’t wait for anybody. Just the way the rich set their own time, they cared little about who else would abide it as long as they held the power to say when, where, and how. People like that came in when they wanted to and left when their interest had waned.

At the foot of the door, a man looked at him expectantly, asked for his name. Jae-ha frowned — he’d hoped the check at the stairwell would have been enough.

There was only one name he knew tonight, save for Kuel-bo’s, and Jae-ha didn’t even know if the man had access to the auction. And so, with the confidence — and arrogance — only a former thief could muster, he smiled.

“Shuten,” Jae-ha said and prayed to the gods he’d never once believed in that whoever Shuten was had his name on that list.

“Welcome, Mr. Shuten. Please take a seat and enjoy the auction.”

Jae-ha sighed. He realised his heart had been racing, realised he’d been holding his breath in his lungs.

Once inside, Jae-ha immediately sought Kija with his eyes. It wasn’t difficult to notice him, as the room was small enough, and his boyfriend was sitting at the very back, staring him down with an expression that was quickly turning from shock to confusion, to unmasked outrage. And as Jae-ha took his seat, he reminded himself that none of this would have had to happen if Kija had simply remembered to turn that bloody earpiece back on.

One of these days, their team would single-handedly lead to the demise of Kouka’s entire criminal-justice system, Jae-ha could almost see it happening. But for the life of him, he could not imagine a family where he’d fit any better.

What a dangerous thought. Jae-ha hadn’t even realised when he’d begun to consider this band of ill-mannered, hot-headed agents his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a whole day late but these last two chapters were almost twice the length of the average chapter for this story and it took me a long time to edit this due to poor time management. The reason why I wanted to have this chapter be mission-based is mostly because I wanted to offer a glimpse of what the now-complete team looks like in action, even if they're all a little dumb and very chaotic LOL
> 
> Next chapter (Friday), we will return for part 2 of Jae-ha and Kija's happy ending, which involves a solid 8K of pure fluff and smut, Kuel-bo and professionalism be damned. Is it 100% fan-service? Oh, absolutely. But that's why we're all here ;)


	23. The Showstopper (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome, dearest Reader, to part 2 of Jae-ha and Kija's happy ending! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of The Prisoner Dilemma and I kindly ask that you stay for the end-notes because I have a few words I'd like to share with you! :)
> 
> Also, this chapter turned out to be a massive 10K+ wall of unabashed fluff and smut, so enjoy! :)

—Kija—

Kija was going to kill Jae-ha. He’d kiss him after his ghost had come back to haunt him, but first, he’d kill him. And if it turned out that one could not, in fact, kiss a ghost, then Kija was sure Jae-ha would find another way to haunt him until the end of days. Perhaps he’d talk and annoy Kija to death. Or perhaps sexual frustration would end Kija first. Indeed, so many possibilities.

The auction had already started. In fact, it had been underway for nearly a quarter of an hour until Jae-ha had waltzed in, all that confidence in someone else’s suit and apparently, someone else’s name, too. Of course, Kija was no stranger to his boyfriend’s ways. He had a knack for finding trouble and if there was none to be found — not for a lack of trying — Jae-ha simply caused it. Chief Mun-Dok said he offered a “fresh perspective”. Agent Hak said he offered a “reason to retire early”. In a way, Jae-ha was both. Simultaneously.

But why was he even here? Surely, he trusted Kija enough to let him do his job. More importantly, why was Jae-ha here without telling anyone? Kija hadn’t heard him say a single word through the coms. He’d even thought the man was being almost uncharacteristically quiet.

“An 11th-century coin with engravings,” the auctioneer said now, causing Kija to look up. “Property of Ying Kuel-bo.”

At the mention of the coin, Kija watched Jae-ha perk up, sit straighter. The detective saw photographs of the coin appear on the screen across the room — the items themselves weren’t brought into the room, but they were somewhere in the mansion. The auction was a silent one, bids placed anonymously and the money wired via digital currency, untraceable.

“An old coin?” the detective asked Kuel-bo, diverting his attention away from his boyfriend. “It must be very special if it’s on auction.”

While he didn’t care much for an answer that would likely be a lie, this was his signal to the team. And yet, even now, no one was responding. In fact, Kija hadn’t heard anyone speak for quite a while now, though he’d simply reckoned the agents hadn’t wanted to disrupt his conversation with Kuel-bo. That wouldn’t explain Jae-ha’s silence. Jae-ha was never silent for more than a minute at a time — that should have been clue enough for Kija to suspect that something was wrong.

With a start, Kija realised his earpiece must be off. But he’d tapped it back on. He had. So why? Trying to remain inconspicuous, Kija tapped it again. Still nothing. Had it broken down? At a time like this, of course, the one thing that was not meant to fail him would.

“Is everything alright?” Kuel-bo asked, interrupting his own speech about the coin, none of which Kija had paid enough attention to listen to.

Kija felt Kuel-bo squeeze his knee, causing him to wish for nothing more than to jump out of his skin. “Of course,” he said, “just intrigued by the items.”

There was some type of commotion happening at the front of the auction, by the doors, the detective noticed now. Kija could hear faint voices, but nothing loud enough to be placed into a coherent speech. From where they were sitting, he could see the clerk at the front talking animatedly with a green-haired man in a suit that matched Jae-ha’s one for one.

The clerk pointed a finger at Jae-ha just as the stranger brushed past him and stomped inside the room.

“What’s going on?” Kuel-bo asked for the whole room to hear.

“This man has stolen my identity,” the green-haired man said, accusatory finger pointing at Jae-ha, “_and_ he’s wearing my suit!”

Ah, yes, of all the crimes that Jae-ha had ever been accused of committing, the one that was going to do him in just had to be a fashion crime. Kija could have almost laughed. He would have, if he’d found the situation comical. But he simply found it infuriating. _How_ many times did he have to tell Jae-ha that people didn’t just do as they pleased?

“Oh, please, two people can wear Brioni, can’t they?” Jae-ha said unashamedly. 

The man looked offended more by the insinuation of having an identical suit as someone else than the fact that a stranger had apparently just impersonated him. “It’s custom-made. I’d recognise my suit anywhere!”

Jae-ha dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “As if I’d settle for a suit that someone else can have!”

Technically, he had. More to the point, Kija would have to kill him for this.

The stranger took a stride forward, but this time, a blue-haired man stepped in behind him and put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to halt him in his tracks. “It’s not worth it, babe.”

“That’s my _favourite_ suit, Abi, and you know it.”

“I’ve had enough!” Kuel-bo said, standing up now. _You and me both_, thought Kija. “Guards!”

Kija watched three men enter the room, suit jackets pushed back as they reached for their guns, on alert. For a second, all Kija wanted to do was leave Jae-ha to deal with the mess that he himself had created. But the second had passed and he prepared to take Kuel-bo down, fingers reaching for the cuffs tucked inside the hidden pocket of his suit.

“If that’s how you boys want to play,” Jae-ha said and stood up. With one hand, he raised his gun. With the other, he raised his badge. “Criminal investigator Jae-ha from the Hiryuu Ministry of Welfare’s Public Safety Bureau. At your services.”

The guards pointed their guns at him.

“I can see how that’s a lot of information to process so let me summarise,” said Jae-ha calmly. “You’re all under fucking arrest.”

Several things happened in rapid succession. One, the guards opened fire. Two, Jae-ha ducked down behind the seat in front of him to avoid the bullets. Three, Kija cursed, then prayed that Jae-ha wouldn’t get shot so he could kill him himself.

Kija used Kuel-bo’s distraction to his advantage. He stood, brought his elbow at the spot between the man’s shoulder and neck, where the pain would be fast and blinding. Kuel-bo’s knees buckled from underneath him, the perfect opportunity seized as Kija tackled him to the ground. He twisted the man’s hands between his back and whipped out the cuffs, heard the metal click in place. Kuel-bo tried to shake him off, though Kija knew he couldn’t.

Meanwhile, he could still hear cracks of gunshot whizzing from one end of the room to the other. Someone was laughing in between rounds of bullets, and Kija could almost bet it was his lunatic of a boyfriend. That man breathed adrenaline. 

The detective looked up just as the doors burst open. A swarm of agents came in, Hak and Shin-ah at the front with the rest of the spec ops behind them. Kija saw the guards surrender faster than he’d seen amateurs confess their crimes and beg for a lighter sentence. Their guns clattered to the ground, as Jae-ha continued to chuckle.

“ETA in 5 minutes, as if,” said Jae-ha. “I could have watched an episode of Suits while waiting for you.”

Agent Hak forced one of the guards to the ground, shoved him roughly in response only to what Kija supposed was Jae-ha’s jab. “Should have had your horns filed down too,” said Hak. “I had to deal with the whole fiasco downstairs first.”

“What fiasco?” asked Kija.

“Hakuryuu,” Hak said curtly as he looked over. “As a rule of thumb: coms off when you’re making out; coms on when you’re in the middle of a mission. Makes sense?”

Kija blanched and paled, then reddened, but said nothing.

Jae-ha, on the other hand, laughed. “You’re just mad because all you got tonight was a slap across the face,” he said and turned towards Kija. “It was totally worth it, if only for Hak and Soo-Won’s fight downstairs.”

“There was a fight?”

“Angel, you always miss the best part,” said Jae-ha, giddy like a child at a candy shop. “Yona beat them black and bloody. I’ll play you the security footage later.”

Hak scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Really? Because I can still see Yona’s handprint on your face.”

“Do you want to know what it feels like?” Kija asked.

Jae-ha chuckled. “To think you’d agree so easily.”

Hak shook his head, clearly revolted with the direction which the conversation had taken on, and returned to his duties.

As the agents quickly moved around the room, Jae-ha went over to Kija’s side. With some air of deliberation, the former thief crouched down. He cocked his head to the side and cast a smug look towards where Kuel-bo lay stomach-down on the floor, Kija’s knee digging into his lower back.

“Someone’s been a bad boy,” Jae-ha said and reached out to give Kuel-bo’s cheek a few playful little slaps. “Not so eager to ravish my boyfriend anymore, are you?”

Kuel-bo groaned. Kija frowned. It was truly a gift of Jae-ha’s, being able to annoy his friends and his enemies equally.

“You’ll pay for this,” the playboy rumbled, though half his face was pressed grotesquely against the floor and whatever dignity he thought he had couldn’t really be found. He’d need to get in line, for there were many criminals who’d said the same, but Kija and Jae-ha were invincible together.

Jae-ha waved his badge in front Kuel-bo’s face. “This right here says I won’t.”

The detective watched as something dangled from the edges of the badge.

“Is that a good-luck charm hanging from your badge?” Kija asked, uncertain. “One of Granny’s?”

“She gave it to me when I went to clean the snow last week,” Jae-ha replied with a smile. “Made it herself. How amazing is that?”

Under any other circumstances, Kija would have used this as merely another opportunity to take Jae-ha up on how unprofessional he could be. But as soon as he thought of his Granny and his boyfriend spending time together, Kija’s heart softened, like it was made of something so very soft and malleable. Perhaps it was, but only Jae-ha knew how to handle it with care.

Kija said nothing. He didn’t consider himself collected enough to speak without kissing Jae-ha first. And though he’d certainly step over Kuel-bo’s body to do so, it just didn’t seem the time or place.

Soon enough, two men of the spec ops team came in to drag Kuel-bo back up and away. It was a small sight of victory, if only for the fact that Kija would never, ever have to seduce anyone in his life again. Jae-ha was different, he was the kind of man that would bite if Kija as much as popped a shirt button off. If push came to shove, Hak could play some man’s arm-candy next time. Or at least they’d play paper-rock-scissors first.

“Grinch, we’re stepping out,” Jae-ha said to Hak as he slung an arm around Kija’s shoulders, expression pleased. “You need our help?”

“You can help by getting out of my sight,” the agent replied. “I don’t want to see you until I have to.”

Before Jae-ha could test any more of the agent’s patience, Kija steered them out of the room and back to the ground floor of Kuel-bo’s manor. Downstairs, the ballroom had cleared. With guests now cordoned outside, the space seemed empty, derelict. Like a ghost town. A space that should have been full of talk and music, but was now eerily devoid of either. There was only silence and the lone agent or two making their rounds.

It was one of those quiet moments, after the adrenaline rush of the chase and the peak of the mission, when there was only confusion settling in and no one knew exactly what they were supposed to do. There simply was nothing left for either Kija or Jae-ha to do, as the spec ops continued to sweep the place. 

Jae-ha went behind the bar and poured himself a drink. “You want one?” he asked.

“You can’t do that,” Kija objected.

“Well, I just did.” 

The detective sighed, installed himself on a barstool. One of these days, he expected to finally learn that there wasn’t anything Jae-ha couldn’t do. Not because he shouldn’t, but because he would anyway.

Although Kija knew he’d made his point clear that Jae-ha should return the ‘borrowed’ suit, that didn’t stop him from appreciating the absolute sight that was his boyfriend dressed in a two-piece tuxedo. At the same time, Kija wanted it off. The fabric hugged Jae-ha’s agile frame in just the right place, a bit tight around the shoulders and buttocks, and it did things to Kija’s imagination. Jae-ha’s hair had even been pulled back in a man-bun — something which Kija had never thought could look so good on anyone. On Jae-ha, though, everything looked flawless. 

Jae-ha circled around the bar, none the wiser to Kija’s train of thought. Hopefully. At least one of them had to remain under the illusion that they were still on the job. The older man remained standing next to him, however, pushing his hips against Kija’s legs. He took a tentative sip of his drink, then flashed a suggestive smile.

“You know, you look positively delectable today,” the former thief said, as if the compliment was something he’d stolen and he _wanted_ to be caught red-handed.

If Kija didn’t know any better, he’d think Jae-ha had been waiting a while to make that observation. But because he did, in fact, know him better, he knew for a fact that he had been.

“You say that every day.”

“But it’s not every day that you wear a suit,” said Jae-ha. “Which I think you should.”

“Really? Because I clearly remember you saying something about me going out naked earlier?”

The detective watched as Jae-ha’s expression took on a far-away look. At first, he was delighted. But then, he realised that someone must have said something over the coms because Jae-ha reached to turn off and remove his earpiece, put it in his pocket. Kija remembered to do the same, even if his com wasn’t working.

Just then, Jae-ha smiled. It was the kind of smile that Kija had learned could mean a thousand things, none of which too proper. It was the snatch of his breath like a thin veil caught on rose thorns. It was a new sun that Kija seemed to orbit around, just another planet aligning the rhythm of its life to that of light.

Jae-ha took a quick sip of his drink and set the glass on the bar, raised his hand towards Kija. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Kija blinked, looking around the empty room. “Are you mad?”

“Madly in love with you?” Jae-ha raised an eyebrow. “Thought that was common knowledge by now.”

“We’re still on the job.”

“That won’t work on me,” he said. “I’ve been made jealous enough tonight and I still haven’t gotten my kiss. I think it should be customary that every time I see you I get to—”

The detective silenced him with a kiss. Truly, the only way to demand silence of that man was to take the words from his very lips, from his tongue before their sounds had even formed. It was supposed to be a quick peck, it really was. But all original intent and purpose got pulled under the current as surprise made Jae-ha part his lips mid-breath and Kija leaned in, fingers pressed softly against Jae-ha’s chest. Just feather-light touches.

The kiss was slow, sensual, and not at all demanding, but Kija felt both of their hearts leap as he continued to claim those lips with his own. He’d have liked to imagine he was taking Jae-ha apart with his tongue, but really, it was the kind of battle which demanded that both sides of the offensive throw themselves with reckless abandon.

“Are you satisfied now?” Kija asked against Jae-ha’s lips.

Even he knew that there would be no satisfying Jae-ha, not until they were both worn and spent later. Maybe not even then.

“Never and not without a dance. If Kuel-bo can dance with you, I most certainly should.”

Kija frowned. “But there’s no music.”

Jae-ha gave him a look that said Kija might as well have suffered amnesia and forgotten who Jae-ha was. And then, with the audacity of someone begging to be smacked into next week, he started humming. A hurried beat, far too fast to be a ballroom song and much too peppy to lead a slow dance to.

“Is that the national anthem?” Kija asked, laughing.

Jae-ha knit his brows close together. “Pretty sure it was supposed to be the song from Mission Impossible.”

“How romantic either way,” replied Kija.

“I try my best for you.”

But even his worst had always been enough for Kija, and so the detective took the former thief’s outstretched hand. Jae-ha laced their fingers together and led them to the middle of the empty room. He’d stopped humming but Kija felt his own heartbeat play its song to fill the silence.

Jae-ha’s right hand travelled to rest just underneath Kija’s shoulder blade, in the exact place where he’d touched him earlier, in the bathroom. There was an almost magnetic sway to the movement, as if Jae-ha was already dancing and he was simply urging Kija to follow along. Though Kija rarely danced, he’d seen a waltz to know he should place his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. His palm hovered over it but instead settled for the side of his neck, where he could feel his pulse as his own.

“I’m no expert but I’m fairly certain that’s not where your hand should go,” Jae-ha said with a short laugh.

“Why?” Kija asked. “Are you ticklish?”

“No, I’m hard.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

“Getting there.”

Leave it to Jae-ha to ruin even the refined mood of a slow dance. With him, it was either a lot of sophisticated, suave words or a lot of straight-forward, impudent suggestions. And he flung them at random. Like knives, hoping one of them would prove a direct hit.

“Have you ever done ballroom dancing?” Kija asked.

He felt Jae-ha shrug in his arms. “I only know the _kozachok_.”

“Do you really?” Kija asked, looking up from where his line of sight lay on the exposed skin of Jae-ha’s chest, the first two buttons of his shirt undone.

“No,” Jae-ha said, laughing as he peered down to look at Kija’s expression. “But you sounded so impressed that I might actually consider learning it.”

“If you want to impress me, you might want to consider learning some manners first.”

As if to prove him wrong, Jae-ha extended his arms and guided Kija backwards. He spun him once, twice, until Kija’s world was a whirlwind of bright lights and sweet tingles down his spine, then captured him back into his embrace.

“I’ve got manners,” Jae-ha insisted. It was difficult to argue with that logic when Kija felt so good in those strong arms.

“Maybe if I put my detective skills to use, I’ll manage to find them. Somewhere.”

Jae-ha scoffed. “Whatever you say, Detective Where-Are-My-Pants.”

“That happened _once_!”

“Angel, it happens every morning. You’re just too stubborn to say it out loud.”

With Jae-ha in the lead, Kija took a step back with his right foot. Once their eyes met, Kija could not look away, drawn into the stormy colours that danced like cold flames. A step to the side with his left foot. Jae-ha advanced again. Kija closed his right foot with the left, switched weight.

He felt the time for him to lead the dance had come by Jae-ha’s smile. Kija took a step forward, left foot first. His eyes dropped to that smile which looked as sharp as a scythe in its descent to reap a heart of its direction. Side with right foot. He was close enough that if he just leaned, his lips would meet skin. He brought his feet together. He would lean. He switched weight. He was already leaning in.

Kija kissed Jae-ha’s throat, softly, and then nuzzled against the freshly shaved skin just there, just right. Jae-ha slid an arm around his waist as Kija continued to steal gentle nips, peppered kisses up along Jae-ha’s jaw that he knew would make him shudder.

“With the rate this is going, I have only one question,” Jae-ha said, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Kija’s lips. “The bathrooms here or the hotel room?”

The detective felt scandalised. He blushed as if he’d never heard Jae-ha speak before. No matter how much time passed, no matter how used to Jae-ha’s brazen manner he thought he had become, comments like that always caught him unprepared.

“I’m not leaving this mansion with more evidence than I found it in,” he replied.

“Why did you have to ruin the fantasy for me like that?”

Kija pulled back. “Because I’m not doing it.”

There was a saying around where Kija grew up, that the donkey was too stubborn to cross the road. For some reason, Jae-ha seemed to think Kija was a bull and waving a red flag would make him do what the former thief wanted. In a way, he was both right and wrong.

Outside of Kuel-bo’s manor, the guests had been cordoned off by the rest of the forces. The crowd stood on either side of the path, laid with carpet and lined with the winter skeletons of the cherry trees. On the far end, where the street was, several vans had parked, no doubt the spec ops’.

“How are we getting back?” Kija asked and leaned towards his boyfriend, their hands brushing together as they walked side by side.

Jae-ha laced their fingers together. “You’ll see.”

As the two agents made their way down the carpet and past the courtyard, brimming with people as it was, Kija felt it with his body that Jae-ha was up to no good again. That another plan was being concocted in his mind and Kija would have to wait and see just how much he’d hate it. It wasn’t his detective instinct that informed him of this. It was a whole new kind of instinct that he’d codenamed the ‘Jae-ha radar’. Right now, it said that his boyfriend was going to suggest something outrageous again. 

It quickly became apparent what exactly, when Jae-ha waved his badge in front of one of the valets’ faces. “Bring in Kuel-bo’s personal limo.”

“Jae-ha!” snapped Kija. “You can’t just ask for our target’s limousine.”

“Oh, _please_, it’s not like he’s going to be using it anytime soon,” Jae-ha responded. “I doubt they’re going to escort him to prison in a limo.”

The ‘Jae-ha radar’ said, quite simply, that Kija should finally set a precedent and just walk away, see what Jae-ha’s reaction would be. Instead, he gripped his hand tighter. He didn’t want to let go, not ever. 

Now that they were going back to the hotel room, Kija was beginning to feel giddy with excitement, almost ready to start bouncing on his feet. Today was an important one and though Jae-ha had remained none the wiser so far, Kija was excited to break him the news. They were just one limousine ride away, give or take twenty minutes. Even though Kija had waited so long, the last stretch seemed like the longest.

When the limo arrived, Jae-ha popped the door open and said to the valet: “Now, if you’d be a dear and drive us to the Central Hotel on 5th, that would be lovely.”

“He’s not a taxi driver,” Kija whispered, pulling him back.

“Maybe, but I’ve got a gun and a badge,” Jae-ha whispered in return. “Though if you’ve got money on you, can you tip? I’ve spent all my money on the other valets already.”

Jae-ha unlaced their fingers and clambered into the back first, as if he expected that Kija wouldn’t move if he wasn’t already in the car. The former thief looked over at him and made a ‘come hither’ gesture with his finger, grinning from ear to ear as Kija slid over next to him.

The car was underway after only a few more moments. Though Kija hadn’t ridden in a limousine before, it wasn’t something that he couldn’t have lived without experiencing. He’d never been one for grand displays of wealth in the first place. Jae-ha, on the other hand, seemed to be living out some dream, smile wide and back slouched as if he was about to melt into the seat.

“There’s an idea I want to try out,” the older of the two men began, his tone lilting in such a way that Kija’s ‘Jae-ha radar’ immediately began to blare in warning. “I’ve always wanted to give head at the back of a limo.”

The valet gave them a horrified look through the mirror.

“Jae-ha, _no_.”

“Kija, _yes_.”

The detective sighed. “We’re literally twenty minutes away.”

Jae-ha leaned in and laid a soft kiss against his neck, almost as if to plead with him. “I want to last longer when we get down to business later.”

As if on cue, a sort of privacy screen began to come up between the driver and the back. There was a soft _whirr_ as the divider went up.

“Wait!” Kija yelped.

“What?” Jae-ha said, banged his head on the roof of the limo as Kija bolted forward and nearly threw his boyfriend across the seat.

Kija reached inside his suit’s pocket. “Have to give this man his tip while he still wants to touch it.”

Though Kija could not see the back of the limo from where he was currently passing all the contents of his entire pocket to the poor valet, he just knew that Jae-ha was rolling his eyes. There was a soft sigh as well, be it of exasperation with the situation or with Kija in general.

Finally, Kija settled in the backseat, the privacy divider now all the way up. Jae-ha leaned forward, ready to capture his lips this time. To offer his amends, Kija pulled him by the lapels of his suit and just as they were about to kiss — oh no, the _suit_!

“Wait!” the detective said again.

“Kija, I swear, do that one more time and I’m never giving you head again.”

But the sudden realisation that Jae-ha was about to lay waste to a perfectly good, expensive suit that wasn’t even his was stronger than any of Jae-ha’s empty threats. Them he’d heard before. “Take off your jacket,” he said. 

Jae-ha frowned. “I hope you know I’m not returning the suit.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to want it after this.” 

Jae-ha let himself be stripped out of his jacket, and Kija hung it up on the coat hook to keep it from getting wrinkled. “What? It _is_ a good suit.”

Next, Kija took off his own jacket, though that one he could easily toss aside, and took off his shirt, flung it at Jae-ha. There hadn’t been any need for them to use condoms since they got tested so Kija’s shirt was about all that could stop them from leaving behind a mess.

“I hate you for this,” Kija said but pulled Jae-ha close, actions speaking louder than his words.

“Angel, you’re about to love me for this.”

Relenting at last, Kija leaned forward to swallow the last sounds of Jae-ha’s words off his very breath. Though Jae-ha always tried to make war, rather than love, to his lips, Kija felt stubborn enough to demand the kiss be slow and languid now. He set the pace as his tongue dipped into Jae-ha’s wet mouth and the two men shared a sigh of pleasure together. And though Jae-ha’s own tongue swirled over Kija’s, Jae-ha was denied his eagerness.

He felt Jae-ha grumble against his lips but comply, felt himself allowed to lead. But it wasn’t permission that he was looking for, it was control in recompense for agreeing to play into Jae-ha’s fantasies.

Unable to keep still, the thief’s hands drifted in long strokes up and down Kija’s chest. Suppose that once a thief, Jae-ha would forever remain used to stealing touches even when he himself did not realise it. As if his fingers moved of their own accord, eager and greedy — so very greedy that they knew no restraint. Now, Jae-ha let his hand roam further, down Kija’s exposed chest, along the lines of hard muscles, between the narrow hips, and just over the fly of Kija’s trousers.

Kija felt Jae-ha pull away, felt himself let him. And as Jae-ha dropped down on his knees in front of Kija, bracketed between his legs, the man’s already swollen lips formed a smile. Not the one he went to battle with. Not the one he followed his jokes with either. No, this was the smile he held for Kija and for moments like this only, in the privacy of their pleasure. Kija looked down at Jae-ha’s handsome face then — at the curious tilt of his brow, the devious lines around his face — and saw perfection. Though, he supposed, the word could not do either Jae-ha or the thrill that came with being his lover any justice.

“Stop dragging this out, Jae-ha,” Kija found himself saying, his cock already twitching at the sight of Jae-ha there, between Kija’s legs. “Just do it.”

“You certainly sound very eager for someone so opposed to this five minutes ago.”

Maybe he was eager, but it was something Jae-ha had awoken within him and no one else. “That was five minutes ago. Less talk, more action.”

“Foreplay is part of a good blowjob, you know.”

And just as everything Jae-ha ever did, surprise was imminent. Lust sparked through Kija like heat as he felt Jae-ha lean forward and grip his fly with his teeth, work it all the way down. Kija rocked his head back into the headrest, the movement fast enough to give him whiplash but nothing as strong as the headrush that followed as Jae-ha pulled down his boxers too, fingers working fast.

When Jae-ha reached for and grasped the base of Kija’s length, his cock was already painfully hard and wrecked with absolute desperation. Jae-ha’s fingers merely brushed up against it first, then circled the head lightly.

“If you don’t do something soon,” Kija said — or rather, heaved with laboured breath, “I’ll take care of it myself.”

But then Jae-ha’s warm lips finally parted around Kija’s length. The detective jerked, the action torn from his body involuntarily, as Jae-ha took the head into his mouth and slowly ran his tongue around it like he was savouring the sound of the resulting breaths which were now coming hot from between Kija’s teeth.

With half-lidded eyes, Kija watched the night stars glisten through the sunroof of the limousine, all the while feeling Jae-ha’s tongue run laps across the slit of his head. And when he’d drank up the sight of the stars, he looked down at Jae-ha and how he lay between his legs. His hair the vibrant green of an emerald. So soft to the touch, so easy to thread with his fingers and pull into his fists. Jae-ha hummed his encouragement. Kija barely restrained himself from thrusting up into his mouth at the sound and how it vibrated against his cock, guttural and primal.

The way Jae-ha gave head, it was like the only pleasure he’d ever care for. And as Kija saw that Jae-ha’s other hand — the one which wasn’t wrapped around the base of Kija’s cock — was down between his own legs, his breath hitched. Jae-ha’s moans escaped muffled, wrecked, and Kija realised they were both close now, chasing the end of this dance together.

He might have to admit defeat on this one, Kija realised. Receiving head at the back of a limousine was an experience he couldn’t have lived without, after all.

From where Jae-ha was bent over and gasping around Kija’s cock into his mouth, his right hand settled on Kija’s thigh so his thumb could draw circles across it. The end was around the corner from there, coming in faster than a bullet. It didn’t take long for Kija’s body to begin tensing and his balls to start drawing up. His breaths became completely ragged, his hips pushing up despite his efforts to contain them.

Kija came, hard and fast. Messy and just right. He didn’t mean to, but he twisted his grip on Jae-ha’s hair as his fingers tightened involuntarily. Jae-ha whimpered, his body shivering under Kija’s hand. The detective could feel him shake, his breath around Kija’s cock stutter, as Jae-ha reached his own orgasm. Kija watched, transfixed, as Jae-ha’s mouth stayed on him, though his release was difficult to swallow down and some of it escaped down the shaft and from the corners of Jae-ha’s mouth.

With his head full of cotton-like bliss, Kija tipped back against the seat and looked back up through the sunroof, where the stars were still the same but they were shining brighter somehow. At that moment, he wasn’t certain if he even possessed a body, his nerves numb and his bones weak.

After what seemed like forever, he felt Jae-ha nestle next to him, in his arms.

“I promised you’re going to love me for this,” said Jae-ha. And though his cheeks were slightly flushed and his mouth was swollen red, he still managed to look no worse for wear.

As for Kija himself, well. He suspected he looked somewhere between debauched and fucked five weeks into the next century.

“You know what would be even better?” Kija asked.

Jae-ha perked up. “What?”

“If you don’t boast about it after it just happened. I was there, I remember.”

The rest of the trip back to the centre of the city was quiet, with Jae-ha leaning up against Kija’s shoulder as though he’d wound himself up all day, like one of those spring toys, and now needed time to gather his bearings again. Because, as far as Kija knew of Jae-ha’s plans, the night was far from over and this had simply been an appetiser.

By the time the limo had stopped in front of their hotel, Jae-ha was mostly back to making comments, some of which Kija, of course, ignored and others which he, as usual, snapped back at. Jae-ha shifted around, tugging down his jacket, and took Kija’s ruined shirt to throw away at the nearby dumpster. Well, to think it’d be completely ruined without repair was probably testimony enough to how excellent Kija’s forethought had been to actually use it. Though standing in the winter weather as he was, only in a suit jacket, was perhaps less forethought and more lack of thought, he’d argue.

How they made it to the hotel was a mystery. How they made it up the elevator was an entire miracle, with Jae-ha’s lips back on Kija’s neck as if nothing short of absolute propriety had transpired in the car ride here.

As they reached their room, Kija leaned against and waited for Jae-ha to open the door. When he didn’t, the detective frowned. “You have the keys, right?”

“The keys?”

“Yes, the keys. You were the last to leave, you must have them,” Kija said. “Jae-ha, _don’t_ tell me.”

“Angel,” Jae-ha began, “I do regret having to tell you this but I’m nearly positive the keys are in some bin at Kuel-bo’s mansion.”

Kija groaned. Of course. Of bloody course. To think that his ‘Jae-ha radar’ was this silent too, perhaps having been completely derailed by the earlier events. One of these days, Jae-ha was going to be the death of him or he was going to be the death of Jae-ha. Which came first? Chicken or the egg?

“But not to worry,” Jae-ha said and crouched down so he was eye-level with the lock. “I’ve got my lockpick.”

“So you remembered to take your lockpick but not your actual keys?”

Jae-ha chuckled. “What can I say. Old habits die hard.”

After the door clicked open, Kija felt relieved, though he’d never admit it out loud. Much less to Jae-ha, who would have certainly used it as an opportunity to tease him how he’d gotten more lenient on Jae-ha’s criminal tendencies. And while Kija had indeed grown lenient, he’d not let himself be called out on it.

The inside of the room was just as grand as the rest of the hotel. Absently, Kija thought that the Bureau wasn’t in the kind of financial situation to afford having them stay at such an expensive place. Though apparently, Jae-ha had no such qualms — he’d indulged in the jacuzzi yesterday and if he could have it his way, he’d indulge in it tomorrow before they were supposed to leave, too.

For now, however, Jae-ha was eager for only one thing, it seemed, as he trailed kisses down Kija’s neck, making his skin catch fire in the wake of his lips.

“Wait a second, I have something to give you first,” Kija said, that earlier giddiness returning full-force.

“It better be good if we’re stopping this.”

Oh, but it was. It was and Kija had been waiting for the longest time to be able to give it to him. His heart throbbed in anticipation, his knees still weak from earlier and only made weaker yet. Kija dipped into his travel bag, the one that Jae-ha wouldn’t have gone through, and brought the gift with him back to the small living space.

And as Kija brandished a small box, fit only for the tiniest of jewellery and tied with a silk bow, he watched Jae-ha’s eyes widen.

“Open it,” the detective said.

Jae-ha looked from Kija and then back to the box. “Please tell me that’s a ring because my answer is already _yes_.”

Kija felt himself blush all the way up to his hair and down his neck. “As if I’d propose to you ten minutes after you finished giving me head at the back of a limousine.”

“The way I see it, that’s the perfect moment to propose.”

“Stop teasing me or I’ll take this back.”

“Okay then, leave the proposal to me,” Jae-ha said. He took the present and began working on untying the bow. “But don’t blame me if you end up with a huge chunk of stolen diamond on your finger.”

Kija waited with his breath held tightly in his lungs. Almost as though if he were to exhale, the moment would be over. Not only tonight, today, but everything. He waited as if he’d been waiting this whole year for this. And in a way, he had been.

When Jae-ha opened the box, he took a sharp breath. In response, Kija felt himself just a bullet, safety released and finger at the trigger, waiting to be drawn. Waiting to be fired, waiting to come to life.

“Is this what I think it is?” Jae-ha asked, voice shaky and words cracking at the edges.

“It’s the key to the tracking anklet,” Kija said. “Today marks a full year since you’ve joined the Bureau. You can take it off now and no one can ever make you wear anything like that again.”

The detective could tell Jae-ha was at a loss, perhaps for the first time since he’d ever met him. Jae-ha had always been brazen, well-spoken. He’d sharpened his knives first and asked questions later. He’d known how to demand aim of his heart, the way an arrow needed direction to land true. He’d known how to use his words, how to cut with them and mend their wounds. But Jae-ha had never, ever been shocked or moved into silence.

Kija could have almost found victory in the predicament, if only his heart was not so very close to exploding — a million fragments, all of which belonged to one person alone. Not to Kija himself, no. His heart belonged only to Jae-ha. It beat for his smile and skipped a beat to his touch.

“Should I?” the detective offered, gestured towards where the key still sat in the box.

Jae-ha simply nodded, perhaps not trusting himself enough to speak.

With his own fingers trembling, Kija took the key from the box and crouched down on his knee. He lifted the edges of Jae-ha’s trousers and looked at the anklet one last time. 

Once, Jae-ha had said it would have felt like chains. He’d never commented on it since, not a single time in the past year. Just as he’d suffered silently with the nadai withdrawal. Kija had known, of course he had, every instance when Jae-ha had felt himself weak, when he’d felt close to breaking under the weight of such a curse. Though Jae-ha had not said anything, Kija had always held him tight, in his arms where Jae-ha belonged, and he’d loved him like he’d never thought himself capable before.

Kija unlocked the anklet. It gave one final weak _beep_ before he tossed it to the side. When he glanced up, Jae-ha was looking at him like he’d never quite seen him before.

“I know I said I’m going to do the proposal and all,” Jae-ha said, “but you do look really good on one knee.”

“I thought you were used to seeing me on my knees.”

“I said _one_ knee.”

Kija smiled. “I can do either, for you.”

When Jae-ha extended his hand, Kija took it and raised himself up to his love’s lips, where he laid a single, tender kiss. 

“Thank you,” said Jae-ha, cupping Kija’s cheeks in his palms. “You remember how we said we should pick a date for our anniversary?”

They’d had that discussion already, though they’d not reached an agreement. Figures, considering how backwards they’d started. In fact, was there a single thing they’d done as people should? Kija certainly could not remember such an instance.

“Yes?” the detective answered, uncertainly.

“I think I know now.”

Kija laughed. “When we had our first kiss?”

“I was dying then, that hardly counts.”

“When I found you in Saika?”

“I was angry then so that doesn’t count either.”

Kija frowned. “You’re always something or another. Tell me then.”

“When I joined the Bureau,” Jae-ha said. “That’s when I knew I could be the man for you.”

Now it was Kija’s turn to disagree. “Then it doesn’t count because I knew you were the man for me long before that.”

Jae-ha smiled softly. “Maybe but that’s when I allowed myself to believe it, too.”

Kija returned the happiness, it was already written in the grin that dawned his face. “Doesn’t that mean today?”

“It does,” said Jae-ha.

Suddenly, Kija felt his heart too full, the way a dry creek’s bed could not take on such heavy rain and would overflow. He felt blessed, as if every day was the best of dreams. There were times when Kija wondered if he hadn’t used up a whole lifetime’s worth of luck in just this one year. 

Jae-ha had become everything. He’d become what came after a shipwreck — after the tide had subsided once more — and there was a sight of land, at long last. He’d become the hope of shelter and the distant lighthouse calling him home.

And while Kija could have said any of those things, he fumbled for words: “I don’t have a present for you,” he finally said.

“And I haven’t stolen anything for you.”

“_Jae-ha_!”

“Fine,” Jae-ha relented. “Then what if we just take a long vacation? Go to the hot springs in Fuuga, take some time off?”

“I don’t think Captain Joo-Doh’s going to agree.”

Jae-ha scoffed. “Joo-Doh can kiss my ass.”

“I thought only I could do that,” Kija said.

“Correction: Joo-Doh can kiss my fist. Better?”

“Quite,” Kija agreed.

In response, Jae-ha pulled their faces together and his hand slid from Kija’s cheek to the back of his neck, fingers moving to thread up into his hair. The older boy slid his tongue along Kija’s bottom lip and Kija sighed into Jae-ha’s mouth, parting his lips because stolen touches were no longer enough.

“Do you have any more surprises?” Jae-ha said, a soft gasp escaping his mouth as he pulled away. “Or can we continue where we left off?”

“You tell me,” was all Kija could say before Jae-ha captured his lips again.

Already, they were stumbling inside the bedroom. They had reached a point of no return, a point where it was physically painful to be separated by so many layers of clothing. Feeling himself eager like he’d rarely allowed himself to be before, Kija started flicking open the buttons of Jae-ha’s shirt, getting distracted now and again by something in the man’s expression and pulling him in for hungry kisses. 

After he’d finally managed to pull Jae-ha’s shirt off, Kija found himself completely and utterly side-tracked by the jarred edges of the scar across his love’s skin. It was as if a war had once been waged across his chest. And it had, in a time that was now their past. Kija couldn’t keep his fingers from running across where the edges of one scar blended with that of another, seeking the seams where chains of tight muscle corded together. 

Once Kija had looked back up, he saw for the first time tonight that even Jae-ha wasn’t immune to the mood — a pretty pink was making itself known across his cheeks. Kija felt blown away by the sight. He was about ready to beg then and there. What for, he didn’t know. It wasn’t touch. It wasn’t even sex. It was everything.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you look at me like that,” said Jae-ha, hands now travelling down to cup Kija’s ass and squeeze.

Kija made a noise that would have been hugely embarrassing any other time but felt just right in Jae-ha’s arms now, and his hands were already tugging down at the fly of Jae-ha’s trousers.  
“So eager,” Jae-ha teased, pulling him down to the bed so Kija’s body now looming over him.

In the heat of the moment, they were nothing more than men possessed by the heat of desire and the warmth of passion. Caught in such a storm, there was no other solution than to just let the winds blow into the sails, to let themselves get carried away until there was nothing else left. Just them, as one. Anything that wasn’t bare skin felt unwelcome, alien. And so locked in that self-determined direction, off went Kija’s belt, both of their trousers, and then their boxers, too. 

Kija went for the prize. He captured Jae-ha’s length past his lips, leaving the other man to groan in surprise, to push his head back against the pillows. He could feel his cock past his tongue now and he yearned to get it to fill his throat, to stretch it out.

“Use your teeth a little,” Jae-ha said, though his effort to speak was already evident. To Kija, it sounded closest to a plea.

The tone made Kija’s skin catch fire. The words made his cock twitch. No one had told him that until Jae-ha. Then again, no one had come close to what Jae-ha was, perfection and then some. Kija had always found it maddeningly alluring how Jae-ha could get off on the faintest of brushes of a tooth against a vein, trashing back as if it were the single most delightful feeling in the world. Fingers were ravishing his hair now, keeping him in place — his lips around Jae-ha’s length, throat clenching around its heat. Kija pushed his shoulders back to support Jae-ha’s thighs. He leaned further, further until Jae-ha’s head was hitting the back of his throat and he couldn’t take any more.

With a gasp that could as well have been a shout, Jae-ha lost the grip on his self-control and thrust into Kija’s mouth. The detective gagged, eased up, then sank right back into the ecstasy that was the stretch of his mouth against Jae-ha’s length. 

“Change of plans,” Jae-ha said, his breath hitching as it bobbed from syllable to syllable. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

Kija pulled back with a most obscene _pop_, a wet smack of a sound that had Jae-ha at attention. “You’re not going to last whatever I do.”

Jae-ha reached out to hold Kija by the chin then, rubbed his thumb back and forth across his mouth. Intense pleasure bloomed from where friction passed like sparks of electricity through Kija’s swollen lips. It came as a surprise that shocked another charged jolt straight to his cock.

“Come here,” the thief said as he pulled Kija to his lips, placed a chaste kiss on his mouth. He used the position, the two pressed chest to chest, to roll them over.

Though Jae-ha was now the one on top, experience told Kija that meant very little. Jae-ha had moved in to capture his ear, and his teeth nuzzled down on the lobe before sucking at the skin. Kija felt a shivering breath escape him and his hands instinctively pulled Jae-ha’s body more firmly down against him.

“You always like that so much,” Jae-ha purred against his boyfriend’s neck, that rough voice like ocean water splashing against rocky shores. He moved his head to bite down against Kija’s neck. “This too.”

On instinct, Kija reached out for Jae-ha ponytail, seeking to accept the challenge. Only then did he seem to realise it was still tied in the man-bun from earlier. He made a disgruntled sound which Jae-ha somehow managed to understand. The man arched his back and reached to fix his hair into the usual ponytail that Kija loved to seek purchase in with his fingers.

“Better now?” Jae-ha asked, diving back to leave marks across Kija’s neck.

It was a familiar dynamic. Each of the men would play to win, their love a battle until one had surrendered control to the other.

Kija reached out, feeling his fingers wrap around Jae-ha’s hair, and pulled. “You tell me.”

Jae-ha made a noise somewhere between a hum and a growl, and his back bent, resisting the force of Kija’s pull. It was all the confirmation Kija needed to know just how much his boyfriend was getting off on this. But even despite the lovely ache still echoing across Kija’s throat and the pressure of bites against his skin, at this point, it was getting unbearable for both of them not to be as one. Kija needed to lose sense of the border where his body ended and Jae-ha’s began. His boyfriend seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion because he glanced at the bottle of lube by the bed, popped the lid open.

Jae-ha reached out for Kija’s hand, leading it to his lips where he took the index and middle fingers into the heat of his mouth. Kija pushed his head back against the pillow with a groan as he felt that wet tongue swirl around his digits, teasing. It was never about being thorough. It was about proving a point, in Jae-ha’s eyes anyway. Only after being satisfied did Jae-ha pull away and take Kija’s hand in his again, rubbing lube across the fingers. 

It was Kija’s turn to take the initiative as he felt Jae-ha lean into Kija’s chest, guiding his hands to his entrance which now lay perfectly exposed. Kija gently pushed at the tight ring of muscle — he rubbed the skin right below, right above, teased it with short strokes. He kept pushing longer and harder, edging closer, almost slipping in but never entering. 

“One of the biggest surprises of my life,” Jae-ha began and although he was trying to keep his voice steady, Kija could feel him tugging at the sheets on either side of him. “Was that you turned out to be such a tease.”

Kija was partly glad that Jae-ha’s face was buried in his shoulder and he couldn’t get a good look at him because he was certain that his resolve to go slow would have probably crumbled in an instant.

“Isn’t that how you like it?” Kija said and it was about all the warning he gave before he slid a finger into Jae-ha.

The gasp which escaped Jae-ha was entirely surreal — low and animal, and rough in a way that felt like it rippled through his body and settled into Kija’s. Jae-ha lifted his hips into Kija’s finger, pushed against it. Even when he released a sharp breath, he still pushed for more, as if he needed every bit of Kija’s finger inside of him and he’d settle for no less. Jae-ha felt so tight. He was terrifyingly tight and excessively hot, and Kija bit his lips against the groan that was rising in his chest.

Then, Kija was inserting another finger and he wasn’t imagining how Jae-ha whimpered into his shoulder, was he? Jae-ha’s other hand — the one that wasn’t demolishing the sheets — fisted itself into Kija’s hair, tugging.

“I want to see your face,” Kija said in a hush and even though he was the one with his fingers curling inside of Jae-ha, he found himself begging. “Please, I need to see you.”

Slowly, in stuttering movements, Jae-ha rose and Kija felt the blood in his body turn molten as he saw the lustful glaze in Jae-ha’s stormy eyes. It spurred Kija to quicken the thrusts with his fingers, every movement bringing out rasped moans from Jae-ha’s throat. His chest heaved and he cried out, the sound stirring Kija on to curl his fingers against his prostate.

“One of these days,” Jae-ha said, rubbing more lube onto his hand and wrapping his fingers around both their cocks. “You’re going to ruin me.”

But Kija found himself struggling with his reply when Jae-ha had just started something divine. He was pumping their cocks together, their lengths pressed together and rubbing against each other. Each movement felt like a connection which ran as deep as primal instinct and seemed so intimate at the same time that Kija was gasping through his next words.

“Jae-ha,” he said to the man, who simply hummed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Kija knew he looked about as desperate as he sounded when he replied: “Please let me have you.”

A confident smile wove itself across Jae-ha’s lips. He edged closer to Kija and rose up higher until Kija’s fingers had slipped out and found interest in the curve of his ass. Slowly, with that same smile, he guided Kija’s length towards his entrance. After a look that almost seemed to say “Are you ready for the show?”, he sunk over Kija’s cock, and all Kija could do to keep the world in check was to throw his head back. No amount of past experience having Jae-ha ride him was able to prepare him for the desperation that was trying to control the urges to grab Jae-ha’s hips and force him as far down as physics allowed it.

Jae-ha’s hands reached out and grabbed Kija’s shoulders in an effort to steady himself. On instinct, Kija’s hands shot out to grip his hips but Jae-ha slapped them away.

“You can’t touch me,” he said, his own hands moving from Kija’s shoulders to his arms, which he pinned to the bed. “Not yet.”

Kija couldn’t help but look at his boyfriend as if he’d never seen him before. His eyes drank it up — Jae-ha’s chest stretching and heaving over him, hard lines of muscles cording across his hips and abs, lips parting with each ragged breath forcing them to shudder. And that smile, that confident smile which played across Jae-ha’s lips — Kija was conflicted in his desire both to kiss it away and nurture it to full bloom.

There was something so alluring in watching Jae-ha ride him without allowing for Kija’s touch — it brought out a lust that was almost sinful. The wet sounds Jae-ha made as he moved across Kija’s length were too much. The sheen of sweat across his forehead and trickling down his chest was unbearable to watch without being able to brush it away. Kija felt as though he would suffocate if Jae-ha was any tighter, any slower. For someone claiming to be a masochist, Jae-ha certainly enjoyed torturing Kija until the boy was wet and practically begging.

But two could play this game and Kija didn’t need his hands to play at Jae-ha’s buttons. He was now gently thrusting into Jae-ha, who was using the momentum to slide even deeper, syncing their rhythm without hesitation. And then he was thrusting harder, knowing what it did to Jae-ha, that his resolve would soon shatter.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Jae-ha groaned, sinking lower until he buried his face against Kija’s neck.

He released his hold on Kija’s hands, fingers now lacing into his boyfriend’s silver hair. Kija took this as his permission to touch. He placed one hand on Jae-ha’s hip and one just under his ribs, where old blade wounds ran straight lines.

“Make me cum without touching my cock and I will let you have me on my back,” Jae-ha whispered.

“Is that a challenge?” Kija asked, teasing.

“Are you up for it?”

The detective picked up his rhythm, moving a little faster and sliding just a bit deeper each time. Jae-ha gasped, back arching, and he pushed Kija back down onto the mattress, taking hold of his chin and drawing him in for a deep kiss. Kija’s hand, already tangled in Jae-ha’s hair, moved higher and clenched harder as his mouth opened and their tongues spilled into each other’s mouths.

But that was too easy. Jae-ha had wanted a challenge. One hand still on Jae-ha’s hip, Kija nudged Jae-ha backwards with a tug at his ponytail. And thank the heavens that he did because the view of Jae-ha’s beautiful body bobbing on his cock and his face flushed and twisting around shameless guttural noises was perfect in more ways than one. Kija leaned forward, capturing Jae-ha’s nipple between his lips. When Jae-ha hummed in satisfaction, Kija removed his hands from where they were bruising his boyfriend’s hip and cupped his buttocks, stretched it apart.

“Fuck,” was all Jae-ha could say, breathing hard against Kija’s shoulder. He was unthinkingly littering Kija’s shoulder and neck with wet kisses, his mouth unable to rest between gasps and moans.

Kija couldn’t quite stop the purr that emerged from his throat when he felt Jae-ha’s tight hole clench around him. At this point, Jae-ha had started littering hurried yes-es in quiet gasps and in perfect sync with Kija’s movement — a peck against his nipple tore out some maddeningly loud moans. Then again, Jae-ha had always liked being loud.

And then Jae-ha was groaning, low and guttural, cum flowing hot over Kija’s chest. “Fuck,” he hissed, riding out his orgasm.

His hips bucked hard — so hard Kija had to steady him with both hands. The idea of Jae-ha still bobbing on his cock, riding out wave after wave of euphoria, was nearly too much for Kija. Almost enough to send him over the edge. But a promise was a promise and Kija had held up his end. He felt Jae-ha’s thighs vibrating on top of him and to show him mercy, he rolled them over and eased Jae-ha onto the bed.

Jae-ha purred Kija’s name, whimpering over his lips as Kija captured his mouth, hips moving quicker. The thief’s breath had gone from ragged to completely desperate now. Kija felt his hips starting to jump wildly, felt his own breathing in patches as he pushed his forehead against his lover’s. Jae-ha’s name, too, was hot on Kija’s lips and he groaned, opting to silence himself by laying another kiss to Jae-ha’s lips so he would stop himself from yelling as he came inside Jae-ha, all tension releasing from his body in a series of heavy breaths.

Kija breathed on top of Jae-ha for a moment, trying to get his bearings back. His head was spinning and dots like stars were flashing before his eyes when he blinked. Finally, after an eternity, he spoke: “I’m done now.”

There was silence and then Jae-ha laughed against the sweat and humidity of the room. “I would hope so. I don’t think I can move.”

“I’ll help you,” Kija said but soon arrived at the realisation that he, too, couldn’t move around much. He sighed, nestling into Jae-ha’s shoulder again, and focusing on the taste of the man’s skin against his lips.

“Is this supposed to be helping?” Jae-ha said with another laugh that reverberated across their bodies from where they stood spent and shaking in each other’s arms. 

“I love you,” Kija whispered into his skin.

Kija hadn’t ever thought himself capable of love, he’d never thought anyone could mean so much to him or that his whole world would start to gravitate towards this single being. He thought of Jae-ha now and wondered what kind of outworldly force was driving Kija to him, for it was a pull stronger than gravity. But that was what love was, he supposed. Unexplainable, indescribable. Everything, everything and more.

He wished he hadn’t noticed how Jae-ha’s voice trembled when he said, “I love you too, angel.”

They lay together awhile, Jae-ha pressed flush against his chest, Kija’s body secured around him as though to shield him from the cold even though both of them felt like they had caught on fire. He knew they should clean up but there was something deeply alluring in not doing so straight away, in just lying there, still inside of Jae-ha even though he was already spent.

“Angel?” Jae-ha spoke softly.

“I’m asleep.”

There was a sharp rise of Jae-ha’s chest as the man chuckled. “I know it was a joke but how soon is _too_ soon to ask you to marry me?”

Kija lifted himself enough to look him in the eye. “Jae-ha, you’re not using this as an excuse to steal a diamond.”

“Maybe I’m using the diamond as an excuse to steal you.”

“For once in your life, please just stop talking,” Kija said and pulled him in for a slow, languid kiss.

Outside, the first rays of dawn were already peeking through the curtains, announcing a new day, a new beginning. A testimony to a future that awaited the detective who’d learned to trust and the thief who’d learned to believe.

—THE END—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jodi Piccoult said: "The act of reading is a partnership. The author builds a house, but the reader makes it a home". This story would have been left at a blank page without all of you Readers supporting it by reading, leaving kudos, making lovely comments, and returning for each chapter! You've made The Prisoner Dilemma a home for me and I hope that I have managed to offer a little shelter for you when you've needed it!
> 
> This story's journey has indeed been a long one — from September last year, past a long hiatus, until now! It is absolutely unfathomable to think you have stayed with this story through thick and thin, and for that, I am deeply humbled by your unceasing support and incredibly honoured to have had you as my Readers!
> 
> For someone who's written so many words, you'd expect that I'd be able to find the right ones now but I'm at an utter loss. All I can say is: thank you! Thank you for loving Kija even when's been stubborn. Thank you for loving Jae-ha even when he's been difficult. Thank you for supporting me even when I've been on hiatus and posting with a few days' delay. Thank you for supporting this fic every week, every time, from thousands of miles away!
> 
> The Prisoner Dilemma is now complete and our boys will stay forever happy, forever together. They've been down and they've fought against bad odds, but they've stood tall and strong! I will continue writing for JaeKi until I have all of my story ideas posted here on AO3 but those will be unrelated to The Prisoner Dilemma. If you want to check any of them out, make sure to check the JaeKi tags once in a while, as there are a lot of other amazingly talented creators out here doing their best to support this tiny ship!
> 
> Once again and forevermore, thank you for being the best readers whom I could have asked for! Thank you for everything and take care, dear Reader! ❤️
> 
> Love,  
Rin


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